Second Chances
by Alexandria-likethecityinEgypt
Summary: After their brush with death in "Last Chance", Dick and Elle attempt to resume their lives in Gotham. Life at the manor may never be the same. SEQUEL. AU. ANGST/H/C/FAMILY High 'T' for Language, violence, & suggestive (sexual) innuendo. Tim D. & Damian W. & LOTS of Guest Stars.
1. Pillow Talk

**This is the sequel to " Last Chance". Although I try to include a little history as to how our characters ended up here, it is honestly easier to understand and enjoy if you begin with the first story and learn a bit about Arabella "Elle" Hamilton's character first. Don't let the size intimidate you. The first story, as with this sequel, is filled with fun and laughter as well as having a dark plot that eventually emerges to threaten everything our heroes hold dear. SUPRISE! There is a mystery involved. Give Elle an opportunity to develop into a well-rounded character and I think you will like her. She's not what you might expect.**

* * *

 **As for those faithful readers who are anxious to continue the story of Dick and Elle - Welcome Back! Much of those things you were waiting for will occur in this story as well as most, if not all, of the answers to your questions shall be found within. This story is all about second chances for not just our couple, but for the entire Bat Family! _Buckle Up And ENJOY The Ride_!**

 **I still do not own any characters created by DC Comics. Only the Original Characters that are included in the story are mine as is the plot itself.**

 **Warning: Just A Tiny Bit of Language . . .**

* * *

Alfred was happy.

One of their long lost lambs had returned to the fold. Dick was home!

Of course, it was only temporary. A few months, perhaps, but the butler would take what he could get. He had had a hand in the raising of the boy; he was a man now, and Alfred often looked upon all of Bruce's boys as if they were his own grandchildren. He had never had the opportunity to have his own; his life had been far too busy to have allowed it, even had he been able to find a woman willing to share him with Gotham's resident Bat.

Bruce had always felt enough like a son to him that he had never felt the loss. And then came the arrival of a most extraordinary, eight year old boy. Had Alfred ever thought the addition of a child into this gloomy household was a mistake? Well, certainly! But it had taken only a few short weeks for young Dick Grayson to worm his way into the master's heart . . . Far less time it had taken him to touch Alfred's. The boy, even in his grief, had been a bright star in the darkness of Bruce's mission. Alfred had likened him to the North Star in his mind, for Dick had always been the light in Master Bruce's life that led him back to his humanity and helped to center him in a world gone mad with grief and violence.

Dick was home, Alfred rejoiced! And he wasn't alone . . .

Alfred couldn't help loving the young woman who had captured his grandson's heart. If Dick Grayson was the North Star, then Arabella Hamilton was his lodestone. She was like a magnet that drew all those around to her; but for Dick she was also his rock; the one would stabilize him and keep him grounded.

Alfred was discovering that she was all of that, not only for Dick, but for the family as well. Miss Arabella seemed to draw the good out of the inhabitants of the manor and made each of them strive to be better. She gave them a sense of normality; something that had long been missing from all of their lives.

He had often lamented that after the family had scattered, there was naught but tragedy to reunite them and pull them back together; only to see them scatter again just as quick as it was over. Miss Arabella, however, appeared to pull them together with joy and laughter, and as such gave him hope that the family might one day soon unite for good.

It was a farfetched dream, but one, that for the first time, held the promise of possibly coming true.

He was a foolish old man for pinning so much on the fragile shoulders of one young woman, but . . . He couldn't help himself. Such was the promise of hope.

Life was good . . . It was just about as close to perfect as he had ever hoped to see in this household.

Or it would be, were it not for the crickets . . .

* * *

"What does this mean?" Elle asked. "Can we not go anywhere by ourselves anymore?"

It was late, or early depending on how one looked at it. They had spent the better part of the day hunting crickets and unpacking their clothes in Dick's old bedroom. They had enough to last them a week. Arrangements would have to be made to bring the rest of their belongings over the next few days.

Elle and Dick had seen the rest of the family off on patrol, and Dick had entertained her in the Batcave throughout much of the evening by tracking the movements of Batman, Robin, and Red Robin as they made the rounds in Gotham. Although Elle had wanted to wait for them to return, Dick had assured her that they wouldn't be back until the wee hours of dawn being it was the weekend.

Besides, Dick had put off explaining the reason for their dramatic move long enough. Elle's patience had begun waning hours ago. He had waited until they were tucked up into bed before bringing it up; where it was unlikely that she would go storming off down the hall wearing only her pajamas . . . Or, in this case, _his_ pajamas as Elle had become wont to do lately. Currently, she wore the top like a nightgown; the flannel reaching her mid-thigh while Dick sported the bottoms.

"You should be safe enough if I'm with you, but we have backup if we were to run into trouble," Dick explained.

The family should be capable of reaching them in an emergency while in Gotham within fifteen to twenty minutes on an average day. In Bludhaven, help would have taken an hour or more to get to them.

"But you won't be alone now while I'm gone," he said. "Alfred will be here in the daytime and will drive you anywhere you want to go."

Elle scowled. "So, this is all about _me_."

"Don't think of it that way," Dick told her; pulling her close. "Think of it as an opportunity to get to know the family better. And you'll be able to take advantage of the fact that you no longer have to wait on me to get a little training in."

Elle raised up onto her elbow and looked down at him. "You aren't going to be teaching me yourself anymore?"

Dick pulled her down for a kiss. "Of course I am," he assured her, "but everyone in the house is capable of teaching you now. We each have our own fighting style, so you'll be exposed to more. You can try various techniques and then pick and choose from among them whatever best suits you."

She lay across him; crossing her arms over his chest as she contemplated what he was telling her.

She wasn't happy that her vulnerability had forced Dick to put in for a long-term emergency leave of absence from the Bludhaven police department or that she herself had been forced to quit her job at Chez Donovan's; lousy two days a week, though it was. But being attacked in her own home and kidnapped by a hired assassin had been the most terrifying experience of her life. Both she and Dick had almost died before it was over; and the ultimate cost they had had to pay had been far too high.

Tears welled immediately at the memory of the loss of their unborn child. She had only just discovered her pregnancy when the assassin had forced his way into their apartment. The night had nearly ended all their lives after a bullet had struck Dick in the chest; puncturing a lung and causing it to collapse.

The bond that connected them as a couple had pulled Elle into death with him; only for both of them to be revived in the hospital emergency room. But the stress had been too much for the wee life that had only just begun growing inside of her.

"I don't want to ever be that vulnerable again," she whispered, brokenly. The moonlight streaming through Dick's bedroom window made the tears glisten as they streaked down her face.

"Sh, Elle, don't cry," Dick begged her; wiping at her tears with his thumb. "We're all here for you. We'll all help you. I won't leave you like that again," he promised.

"You can't promise that!" Elle was shaking her head. "Dick, I'm not like all your other girlfriends. I'm not especially athletic. I'm not even graceful when I'm out of the water."

"But in the water, you are amazing," Dick reminded her; referring to her Atlantian roots. "And you become very graceful whenever you sing and dance."

She sniffled; blinking at him in confusion. "Are you suggesting that I should serenade my attacker while I am attempting to kick his ass?"

Her question startled a laugh out of him. "That wasn't exactly what I meant."

The corner of her mouth tilted up in response to his amusement. Dick looked thoughtful for a moment.

"You are pretty darn amazing when you dive, too," he remarked, wonderingly.

Elle sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. Sleep wasn't coming in the near future.

"You know, Poppa couldn't figure it out either," Elle admitted. "Mama wasn't a klutz, and you've met my grandmother." She scrunched her nose as she remembered her childhood. "I was constantly tripping. I fell down the stairs several times; although Aiden admitted to helping me one of those times."

Dick's amusement vanished and his expression darkened at the mention of Elle's half-brother. It was noticeable even in the dim lighting provided by the moon.

"I still think he is the most likely candidate behind the attack on you. Why do you insist on taking his word that he wasn't involved?"

Elle shrugged on shoulder. "Maybe because he's never lied to me. He's lied to others; sure, but never to me. I've always known exactly how he's felt about me from the very beginning."

Dick winced a little as he sat up beside her. Elle noticed.

"You did too much today, didn't you?" She accused him.

"It was nothing! Just a little twinge," he told her. "I feel fine!"

"You carried the luggage from the bedroom by yourself," Elle pointed out.

"Thirty feet!" Dick laughed. "Bruce and the others did all the work. I could probably even go back out on patrol if I wanted."

Elle gasped, outraged. "You will _not_! Doctor Thompkins has yet to give you leave for that!"

"She's used to Bruce's overprotectiveness," Dick said, with a smile. "I feel great!"

She sent him a mulish look. "It's only been two weeks since you've had major surgery."

"Something I should probably thank you for." He leaned over and placed a kiss on her cheek. "This bonding stuff and a little bit of your blood has reduced the time I needed to heal by more than half."

Elle didn't look convinced. "And you drove here all the way from Bludhaven. You should have let Tim drive the car."

Dick burst out laughing. "We would have ended up in a ditch when Mook ran through the car had Tim been driving!"

Elle giggled. "Poor Tim. I don't think he's too fond of Mook, do you?"

"Out of the family, I think Damian's the only one who doesn't seem to mind tarantulas," Dick snorted. "I'm surprised Tim stayed over after the cricket incident."

Groaning, Elle dropped her head onto her knees. "Oh my God! Don't remind me! That was so humiliating!"

Only Elle could have managed to drop a container of one hundred live crickets in the middle of the foyer.

"Mook didn't seem to mind," Dick chuckled.

The tarantula had leapt from Damian's shoulder into the mess, Alfred had turned on the vacuum, and the rest of the afternoon had descended into a kind of chaos that Wayne Manor had likely never before witnessed in its entire two hundred plus years.

"It was awful!" Elle moaned.

"Wait!"

Elle looked over at him curiously, but Dick covered her lips with a finger before she could voice a question. Her eyes widened in response.

"Sh, listen," Dick whispered dramatically.

She did, and a second later the distinct sounds of crickets chirping was heard.

Elle gasped. Grabbing her pillow, she slammed Dick in the face with it, and he tumbled over onto his side, laughing.

"Ooohhh . . . You!" Elle stammered as she climbed to her feet. She wielded the pillow like a weapon over him. "You are _so_ going to regret that!"

* * *

"Ow," he cried out, holding his hand over the area he had been injured. "Wait! Hold up," he groaned.

Elle dropped her pillow as she fell to her knees beside him. "Oh my God! _Dick_! I'm so sorry . . . You said you were better!" Elle reached for him, horrified.

Suddenly, Dick rolled over and swung his pillow at her. The pillow hit Elle in the face and she fell backward with a feminine grunt. He leapt to his feet onto the floor, his pillow still in hand, in preparation for her retaliation. There was no way that she would be falling for that trick a second time!

He grinned at her as Elle staggered to her feet on the mattress. She turned to face him and Dick raised his eyebrows in delight at her furious expression.

 _Oh shit_ . . . His grin widened. He was in for it now!

With a yell, Elle threw her pillow at him. Dick dodged it handily and came up, only to be smacked in the face with a second pillow.

 _Damn_! He had forgotten about the numerous decorative pillows that Alfred had kept stacked on his bed when it wasn't in use. Elle must have grabbed one of those. This meant full-on war! There were several pillows on either side of the bed that they had tossed aside when climbing under the covers almost an hour ago. He threw one at Elle's feet with enough force to topple her. She bounced once on the mattress, and then rolled off of the other side of the bed.

Dick had already picked up another pillow when one struck him in the stomach. It didn't hurt. None of them did as they were stuffed with either foam or fresh goose down. He threw another even as he caught the one Elle had thrown at him. Dick's aim was deadly, and his pillow hit her full in the face.

Elle squawked in surprise, but was nowhere near giving up, despite the knowledge that she was outclassed in this match. She grabbed two and threw them back simultaneously. Both pillows flew by either side of his head harmlessly.

He laughed as he returned fire. Elle tried to dodge, but the pillow whacked her in the shoulder. She tossed another at him just as his second throw hit her in the chest. Elle's pillow went over his head, but Dick leapt up and caught it, throwing it back at her all in one fluid move. It hit her in the face; causing her to drop the pillow she was about to throw back at him.

She decided to fight smarter; ducking down behind the bed and throwing the buildup of pillows that Dick had been hitting her with. Elle lobbed them, one after the other, with little thought towards aiming. Out of the five she threw only two managed to hit him; one got him full in his face.

It was pure luck! His fiancée had a horrible aim . . .

One of the other pillows hit the lamp and knocked it over. Its shade prevented the bulb from breaking, but it took out the clock radio and a picture frame with it. The crash sounded worse than it was. Dick didn't even blink as he began tossing pillows back with the same speed and enthusiasm that Elle was showing. The only difference was every one of his hit his intended target despite her attempt to hide.

When Dick reached down for more ammunition, he realized he had thrown them all. Every one of the ten pillows was on Elle's side of the bed. She must have realized the same thing because she looked at him with one of the most evil, shit-eating grins he'd ever seen.

He couldn't help it. He burst out laughing even as she started throwing pillow after pillow at him in quick succession. She actually managed to hit him three times out of ten throws, but only because he couldn't dodge while laughing so hard.

He scooped up three pillows with one arm and threw the fourth one at her. The door to their room opened at that moment just as Elle shrieked and successfully dodged the pillow.

"What's going on in here?"

The answer smacked Damian in the face.

"Ack! What the hell?" Another pillow hit him in the head.

"Language, Damian," Dick said as he threw another pillow at their intruder.

Elle ran over to the startled boy and dragged him back to her side of the bed while picking up two of the fluffy ammo off of the floor. She threw one of them back at Dick, laughing hysterically. The pillow flew harmlessly by. The second one he snatched out of the air and threw it back at her. A soft 'oof' announced a successful hit.

A pillow struck him in the side of his head with enough force to almost sting.

 _Damian_ . . .

Dick grabbed up several pillows and began chucking them at now two targets. One pillow hit Elle while Dami caught one and flipped over the other. The pillow that missed flew by and rolled through the open doorway and into the hall.

Tim picked it up and stepped into the doorway.

"What's up," had barely passed his lips when Tim was hit with a barrage of pillows from both Dick and Damian. "Hey," he yelped in surprise.

Elle jumped on top of the bed and used Dick's distraction to clobber him with her pillow. It was Dick's turn to yelp, and he used her proximity to grab her legs out from under her. Elle fell to the bed again, bouncing.

Suddenly, Dick was hit with several pillows at once. He stumbled back and grabbed at his supply. It was plentiful. All the pillows were on his side of the bed now. He began grabbing and chucking them at both boys over Elle's head.

She was climbing to her feet when pillows hit her from both sides. Elle shrieked and fell back onto the bed, laughing. Dick threw several more; every one a direct hit as the boys were distracted by Elle. They apparently hadn't meant to hit her.

Elle rolled off of the bed, taking one of the pillows with her. She came to her feet and threw it at Damian; missing him, but hitting Tim. She scrambled towards Dick's side of the bed.

It was two on two now.

Pillows were in the air constantly now with ninety percent of them hitting their intended targets. Elle still sucked, but she was enthusiastic!

"What going on in here?" Bruce repeated Dami's question from earlier as he stepped into the room; the noise attracting both him and Alfred to the source.

Immediately, every pillow was aimed in the direction of the doorway and Bruce was pummeled by six pillows. One got by him and skimmed the top of Alfred's head.

"Oh no, you did not," Alfred said.

Had Dick described his and Elle's pillow fight as a war? He shook his head as he corrected himself.

This was World War III in his room and it was every man, and woman, for him or herself!

Bruce and Alfred entered the fray and for the next twenty minutes the family was reminded that the stoic demeanor of the family butler hid an accuracy that easily matched that of any of the Bat's brood. The seams quickly proved incapable of handling the stress and soon feathers and bits of foam were flying. It resembled a blizzard, so thick was the down flying about them.

It quickly settled down after that as there was nothing left to throw but empty pillow cases. The feathers settled around them as Elle sneezed.

"God bless you," Alfred told her in response; his composure regained in but a mere second.

Elle blinked at them all, and suddenly grinned. "That was fun," she announced. "How was patrol?"

"Uneventful overall," Bruce replied. He eyed the two of them. "I thought you two were supposed to be convalescing."

Dick and Elle exchanged glances and they shrugged their shoulders at the same time.

"We're feeling better," Dick answered. "Thanks for asking!"

"Grayson, you're an idiot," Damian snorted. But the boy had a smirk on his face.

It didn't take a mind reader to realize that the boy had greatly enjoyed the break from the norm. It provided what Dick suspected was a greatly needed release from the tension of the evening's activities. He highly doubted that the night had been as uneventful as Bruce wanted Elle to believe. Dick knew him too well.

But instead of brooding about it, he suspected that each of them would likely fall asleep easier and more deeply for participating in the silliness of the pillow fight. It had been years since silliness had invaded the manor, and Dick thought it had been sorely missed.

"Don't worry about the mess, Alfred," Elle was saying. "Dick and I will clean up our own messes."

"Nonsense, Miss," Alfred sniffed in a royal fashion. "You were hardly the only ones tossing pillows. Neither can the two of you sleep in here with it like this."

"We'll make do, Alfred," Dick added. "We can save cleanup for tomorrow morning."

The butler was just about to argue the point when Bruce laid his hand on the elder man's shoulder. "Sounds like a plan to me," he said. "You two behave yourselves for the rest of the night."

Elle and Dick grinned and were pleased and a little shocked to find that they were met with several sets of matching smiles.

"See you at breakfast," Bruce told them as he pushed Damian and Tim out the door ahead of him.

Before Bruce closed the door, however, he leaned back in and turned the lock. He winked and Elle blushed. Dick laughed. This might not be so bad, after all.

* * *

 **REACTIONS?**

 **We start off on the same day as we left. Lots of things will be happening in the beginning chapters. And yes, that picture is of a couple on the beach. I thought it fit nicely.**

 ***Don't forget to check my profile if you don't see this story updated in a timely manner (for me, that is). Also, I love REVIEWS! And I love GUEST REVIEWS! I seldom answer questions in the A/Ns, unless it is something that is intended to clear up a matter of confusion from the previous chapter. If I do not answer on my profile (check there first), it may be because to answer would give away a plot device or the answer is found in the next chapter or two. I've had a few of those - where a guest guessed something that would be happening later on (or something close enough to it.). I love hearing from you. And honestly, I write faster when I do.***


	2. Look Who's Coming For Dinner

**Warning: Some Strong Language . . .**

* * *

Dick poked his head into the library. He really wasn't expecting to find Elle there, but she wasn't where he'd left her which was in their new bedroom in the wing opposite that of the rest of the family. Dick had seen the wisdom of providing them a little distance from the rest of the family after the second time Damian and family had interrupted them when their ' _play_ ' had gotten a little exuberant.

At least this last time he and Elle had been dressed, albeit for bed. The first time, on the night before Christmas, that hadn't been the case. Bruce had suggested the move since the two of them were going to be married in a couple of weeks. It would give the newlyweds a sense of privacy, he had told them, and a place for them to call their own during their stay at the manor.

Elle had spent the morning moving their things in while Alfred, Bruce, and the boys had emptied out a couple of other rooms for some of their furniture. Elle planned to create a sitting room and office in two of the bedrooms across the hall once they had collected their furnishings from their old apartment. It should tide them over for the four months or so that the couple planned to remain in Gotham City.

They would see where fate would lead them next after Dick tracked down the assassin that had been hired to kill him and Elle, and discovered the person responsible for the hit placed on their heads.

As it was, Dick was a little surprised to find his fiancée at one of the two tables in the library's confines with a box full of papers spread out around her. She was pouring over several documents and didn't hear him at all.

"What are you reading," he asked.

Elle jumped a little, startled despite the noise he had purposely made to avoid doing just that.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack," Elle complained as Dick bent down to kiss her. She was smiling by the time he finished. "Okay, forgiven."

"You never answered my question," he pointed out; pulling out a chair to sit beside her.

"Oh, these are some of the things that my chief financial officer sent over a couple of weeks ago from the company detailing the items we're planning to go over at the meeting on Monday." She closed a folder and laid it aside in favor of another. "You should have seen the spreadsheet I had laid out earlier. It took up the whole table."

"What meeting is this? I thought we had a meeting with the lawyers on Monday," Dick frowned at the report Elle pulled out. "Did they call to cancel on us?"

"No, that meeting is still on," Elle told him a little reluctantly. "I'm talking about the company meeting with the board of directors at Hamilton Industries. I missed the last one, so it was rescheduled for Monday morning at ten."

"Hamilton Industries?" Dick's frown suddenly cleared. "Oh, right. Bruce will let you use his study for the conference call, I'm sure, but isn't the meeting with the lawyers at nine? You're going to be cutting it close."

"No, I won't. I'm not meeting with the lawyers," Elle said slowly. She met his eyes. "I need you to attend that meeting for me. I'll be in route to H.I. at that time."

Dick blinked and suddenly the frown was back. "You mean in route to Chicago?"

Elle nodded. "I cannot miss another meeting with the board. It's imperative that I attend this one."

"You can ' _attend_ ' the meeting here through a conference call," Dick informed her. "You don't need to go to Chicago for it."

"Yes, I do. Don't worry," she said. "It's already been taken care of. The company jet will pick me up at the Gotham City municipal airport because it's closer to the Manor. I arranged for a helicopter to meet me upon landing and transport me directly to Hamilton Industries from there."

Dick was already shaking his head. "You can't go! It's too dangerous!"

"Dick, I cannot miss another meeting. Last time was understandably unavoidable, but this time I have no such excuse."

"Excuse? Last time was unavoidable because you were in the hospital! And you're not going to this one because there is still a contract out on your head! How's that for an excuse?" Dick glared at her.

"If I miss this meeting, Dick, I might as well just hand over the company to Aiden now," Elle stated calmly.

He blew out a breath in frustration. "Okay, fine. I get it. When do we need to leave?"

He didn't miss the slight wince in Elle's expression at his question.

" _We_ don't," she answered him with a regretful smile. "I need you here to meet with the lawyers Monday and discuss the evaluation results from the psychiatrists with them." She ignored the growing anger in his face, and plowed ahead. "I expect they will want to meet with each of the doctors individually."

Elle pulled out a manila envelope and handed it to him. When Dick refused to take it, she laid it in his lap. "My copies are in here with the contact information for each of the psychiatrists I used. They are going to be here until Thursday. After that, they will all be leaving until the court hearing when they'll return to provide testimony on my behalf. I'm going to need you to help arrange that for me."

"Elle," Dick said carefully. "I am more than willing to help with this, but not if it means you go back to Chicago alone. We can reschedule with the lawyers when we _both_ can be here."

"There is no time for that," Elle corrected him, "and no one else can do this for me but you."

"Bruce can . . ."

"Bruce has his own business to run," she reminded him.

Dick shook his head, "I'm sure he would be more than willing . . ."

"Dick, stop!" Elle reached out for his hand. "I don't want Bruce to do this for me. I only trust you with this."

"Elle, certainly you know by now that you can trust Bruce."

"I do . . . with a lot of things. I know how much you trust him," she said.

"With my life," he declared. "What's more is that I know I can trust him with yours."

Elle looked away. "I'm not there yet, Dick. I know he would do this, but this is my life; our life . . . I-I'm just not to that stage yet. I need _you_ to do this for me, Dick. No one else."

"You can't go to Chicago alone," he insisted.

She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. "You keep repeating yourself, but the answer remains the same."

"At least let Bruce . . ."

"Dick, stop it!" She slapped a hand down on the table. "I won't have it being said that I needed Bruce Wayne to hold my hand and walk me through a board meeting. If I am going to run this company, I have to do it on my own. The board needs to be able to trust my decisions and they won't do that if I show up with the owner of Wayne Enterprises on my arm."

"You're being unreasonable!" Dick leaned forward and grabbed Elle's forearm. "Surely the board would understand that these are extenuating circumstances. The man who was hired to kill you just escaped from police custody!"

"He was hired to kill you, too," Elle pointed out.

"I can handle myself," he pointed back.

Elle pulled free of him and stood up; her own temper flaring. "Whereas I can't? That's the gist of it, isn't it? Elle can't handle anything by herself! Elle always needs someone else to take care of her!"

"Elle, it's not like that." Dick stood up and moved to toward her, but Elle shoved him away.

"First, I had to prove myself to my father. Then, I discover that I need to prove myself to a judge and a troop of psychiatrists, and now . . . Apparently, now I have to prove myself to you, too!"

"Elle, come on," Dick attempted to soothe her. "You know that's not true."

"Uh huh, and what about Babs," she snapped.

He blinked at the sudden change in subject. "Babs?"

"Barbara Gordon! Did she, or any of your other girlfriends, get this specialized treatment?"

Dick gaped at her; unsure where Elle was going with this. "My other girlfriends? What are you talking about? This has nothing to do with Babs or any of my past girlfriends! This is about you and . . ."

"There it is again!" Elle voice rose. "It's always about _me_! Why we moved to Gotham City; why we're living in the manor; and why you won't let me do my job! I must be really pathetic," she muttered in disgust; turning her back to him.

"This is about you and me, too, Elle; _the both of us_. You and I, we're in this together, baby." He moved up behind her and slid his arms around her. "I shouldn't have to remind you of that."

After a moment, her shoulders slumped. Elle turned in his arms; one of her hands moving to cup his face.

"It is," she agreed. "It really is. You and me against the world . . . But this partnership needs to be equal, Dick. I need to be allowed to pull my own weight and do my share."

He shook his head. "Not if it means making yourself a target."

"Maybe if he . . . she . . . whoever this is sees that I won't be stopped; that nothing is going to hold me back, he'll give it up," she looked up at him, pleadingly.

"Now, you're just being naïve," Dick told her softly.

"Naïve?" Elle's voice hardened. "No. You might have gotten away with saying that four months ago, but you don't get to say it about me now!" She shoved her way out of his arms. She moved back to the table and began gathering together the reports, charts, and graphs. "I'm going to my meeting," she stated firmly. "In Chicago. Alone."

"Where is that willingness to compromise now? Or does that only apply when it comes to _me_ ," Dick snapped.

"I won't have anybody walking me through life like I'm some kind of toddler," Elle told him through gritted teeth. She grabbed a handful of folders and shoved them into her briefcase. "I don't need someone to constantly shield me from all of life's unpleasantness!"

"Unpleasantness? Having a contract out on your life is more than a bit of unpleasantness!" Dick waved his arm in the air in his frustration. "No one would penalize you for taking a few precautions. In fact, it would be a reasonable move made by a competent woman who understands her importance in the world, both to her company and to the people who love her."

Elle snapped the briefcase closed with a sigh. She turned around and leaned back against the table's edge.

"What exactly are you suggesting?"

He had a glimmer of an idea. "Let me think on it for a bit first."

* * *

"So, it's true."

Dick didn't bother looking; he already knew who his visitor was. He had heard him opening the window, but even if he hadn't, the cold rush of air would have given it away.

"What's true, Jason?" He called back over his shoulder, keeping his attention on his task.

"You came crawling back to the manor like some kicked puppy."

Dick wasn't rising to the bait. "I don't know where you get your faulty information, but you might try verifying it before opening your mouth and letting your ignorance escape."

Jason snorted and slid the rest of the way into the room; shutting the window behind him. "And yet, here you are," he said. "Nice try, though; moving your room from its place of honor into a different wing. Took me a while to find you in this pile of rocks."

Dick continued to ignore him as he finished setting up the computer for Elle in what was going to be their office. Alfred had provided them a couple of desks and some bookshelves. It was more than Dick needed. He was satisfied with a laptop on a card table, but he knew Elle would appreciate the thoughtfulness behind the gesture. Some of their own furniture would be going into the room next door.

"So, what's the guy's name?" Jason sat in the leather chair and propped his feet onto the desk next to the monitor.

Dick didn't pretend to not know what he was talking about.

"Didn't get a name," he muttered as he finished up. "You were born in an alley, not a barn. Get your boots off of the desk," Dick said as he shoved the offending footwear to the floor.

Jason caught the arms of the chair as his boots landed with a thump. As insults went, it wasn't bad, but Jason ignored it to focus on Dick's answer.

"Are you kidding me? Someone puts a hit out on you and you didn't get the guy's name?" Jason laughed. "You must be losing your boyish charms, Grayson. Maybe if you ask nicely, I'll give you tips in interrogation techniques."

"You got a reason to be here, Jay, or are you slumming today?" Dick moved around the desk and sat in the chair provided for visitors.

Jason snorted. "I can't believe B doesn't have the guy's vitals hung up in the trophy case by now. Having someone out to get the golden child usually sets a fire under the old man's ass."

"The assassin escaped police custody early Friday morning," Dick admitted reluctantly.

"Police custody? That's a joke, right?"

Dick scowled. "A good officer was killed in the process. That's _not_ a joke!"

Jason replaced his boots onto the desk. "That you thought the BPD could hold him is. Corruption is so thick there, I'd be surprised if he didn't get a police escort out of the building."

"It was out of the hospital, and he had help," Dick told him. " _Outside_ help."

"What makes you say that?"

"The way the cop was killed, and the fact that our assassin wasn't in any shape to pull it off by himself," Dick confessed.

Jason's eyes sparkled with interest. "So, you did manage to kick his ass a little before turning him over to your buddies on the force."

Dick shrugged. "He was feeling it, although it didn't stop him from shooting me."

"You let him shoot you?" His brother laughed again.

"I wouldn't go so far as to say I ' _let_ ' him do shit. He was aiming for Elle."

The laughter stopped. "Your girlfriend? What the fuck? What the hell was she doing in the line of fire in the first place?"

"He came after her while I was out. He beat her and used her to try and trap me. But we believe that Elle was his main target. I was incidental . . . a bonus, you might say." Dick smiled bitterly. "But regardless, whoever it is wants the both of us dead."

Jason winced. "Oh, damn. She okay?"

"Yeah, but it was close . . . For the both of us," Dick admitted. "Bruce insisted she would be safer here, and I . . ." he blew out a breath, "I agreed."

"I only heard about the contract out on you," Jason told him. "Nobody said anything about a second hit on a woman. You sure your girlfriend was the intended target?"

Dick paused as he considered this new piece of information. "Pretty sure. Based on what the guy said, if he couldn't get to her, he was to come after me. But he was getting paid for the both of us."

"Curiouser and curiouser," Jason rubbed his jaw.

Anything else he had been about to say was interrupted when the door was kicked in. Tim entered the room with dramatic flair; bo-staff at the ready. Bruce followed on his heels.

"The alarm went off," Bruce told them. "I thought if it might be you, Jason, when we didn't hear sounds of fighting coming from the room. We have a front door. I'm fairly certain you know where it is."

"Took you long enough. In that amount of time, if I wanted to kill him, he would have been dead five times over, and you'd have walked into an empty room," Jason drawled carelessly.

"Don't be an ass," Tim sniped as he set his bo-staff aside.

"I was down in the cave when the alarm went off. You being on the opposite side of the manor took extra time that we can ill afford. He has a point," Bruce frowned at Dick. "Perhaps we can put off the move until a more convenient time."

Dick waved his hand. "Forget it. We're not moving back. It took all day to get most of our stuff moved over here."

"And if it were Elle alone in here," Bruce asked.

"I'm here," Dick said. "We can add an additional alarm to the windows; one that sounds aloud as well as the usual silent ones."

"Wait. Elle's here?" Jason looked at him.

"What part of what I just told you didn't you get," Dick snarked. "Elle was the main target."

"So, why's the word out on the street for you alone?" Jason wondered aloud.

"There's a contract out on Dick, but not Elle?" Tim glanced between the room's other occupants. "Does that mean that Dick was the main target after all? That Nameless only took Elle because she was home alone at the time?"

Bruce and Dick were both shaking their head.

"No. Elle was the target, but this makes sense," Bruce looked at Dick. "It also narrows our list of suspects."

"How so?" Tim glanced at the two of them. "You two know something that we don't know."

Dick slammed his fist on the desk. "I knew that bastard had to be lying!"

"Apparently, Dick knows more than all of us," Bruce commented. "Care to share?"

"Elle's brother is the only one besides you and her grandparents who know!" Dick gritted his teeth. "He's the only one who hates her, and me by association."

Jason's eyebrows went up. "He hates her enough to kill her? That's harsh!"

Tim snorted. "You're one to talk, brother dear."

"Yeah, well, you're not nearly as pretty as she is," Jason snarked.

"But I was under the impression that he was attempting to regain control of the company and their father's estate through legal channels," Bruce frowned. "Does the estate roll back to him upon Elle's death?"

"No, it goes to me or any children we might have," Dick clarified. "But Elle's made sure that he's aware that with my death, the company and estate would go to you. Maybe his hatred has grown to the point he no longer cares about the inheritance?"

"It's possible, but unlikely," Bruce pursed his mouth in thought. "There has to be someone else, someone the two of you aren't yet aware of, who is doing this; someone who understands the nature of the bond. What about her mother's family?"

"Bond? What bond?" Tim looked back and forth between them, but Bruce and Dick ignored the question.

"Although the family legend is common knowledge, as far as I know, no one else in the family have any idea of the truth behind it. And you've met her grandparents. There is no way either of them would do something like this," Dick insisted. "And anyway, what would there be to gain? Her father's estate wouldn't go to either of them, or to any of her mother's family."

"What of her grandparents' estate? Is there another beneficiary that would gain her portion should she die?" Bruce asked.

"You'd have to ask Elle about that," Dick said. "That isn't something that we've talked about yet. Cedric died so recently, I'm hesitant to remind her of her grandparents' mortality."

Jason glanced at Tim, but saw that he, too, was in the dark. Bruce and Dick were talking about things only they were privy to.

"Mind letting us into the loop, here?" Jason interrupted. "Or should the Replacement and I leave you two alone?"

Bruce remained tightlipped, but Dick frowned at them. He looked at Bruce; a question in his eyes. The two had long learned the fine art of non-verbal communication. So had the later Robins while in the field, but no one else understood Bruce well enough to manage it in their daily lives.

Bruce shrugged. "It's up to you and Elle, chum. It's not my secret to share."

Jason raised an eyebrow. "Now, that sounds ominous."

"Family legends and mysterious bonds," Tim murmured. He looked at Dick. "Does this have anything to do with your weird actions a few weeks ago when I visited you in Bludhaven?"

Jason snorted, but didn't comment.

Dick sighed; running a hand through his hair. "They are family," he muttered more to himself than to Bruce. "It makes sense that they should know."

That thought was interrupted by Bruce's cell phone ringing. Bruce glanced at who was calling, and then answered it.

"Yes, Alfred," Bruce spoke into it. "Sorry, we should have let you know immediately that it was safe. Jason came for a visit . . . I don't know, but I'll ask him." He hung up and slipped the phone back into his pocket. "He and Damian had taken Elle to the Batcave," he explained. "They're bringing her back up now."

"Don't tell Elle about the contract that's out on me," Dick told them. "I don't want her worrying any more than she has to."

"Do you think that's a good idea," Tim asked, "not telling her?"

"She has a lot on her plate right now," Dick told him. "Besides, I don't want her thinking it's safe for her to go out alone. Anyone after me would know the best way to get to me would be through Elle. Better to assume that she's still the primary target."

"Why do you believe she's a target? If the guy didn't admit as much, the originator of the contract could be someone Dickhead wrote a ticket for or some shit like that," Jason asked.

"I'm basing my opinion on what Elle told me," Bruce said.

"No. I heard the guy. He was definitely after her, too," Dick told them at the same moment.

"Whoa! Wait, what?" Tim shot his eldest brother a look. "What do you mean what you heard? Did the guy admit something to you that no one else knows about?"

Dick ran a hand through his hair; a sure sign of frustration. "Elle . . . She accidentally filmed her attack."

"What? When did you find this out, and why didn't you mention it earlier?" Bruce frowned.

Dick glared at him. "Because it isn't a comfortable video! It's . . . hard to watch."

"I realize that," Bruce softened his tone; laying a comforting hand on his eldest son's shoulder. "But it could give us a clue to the person's identity who is behind this."

"I watched it the other night with Elle. I didn't hear anything concrete, but then again, I wasn't exactly in the right frame of mind to notice any clues he might have dropped." Dick shrugged; his gaze dropped to the floor.

Tim gaped. "You watched it with Elle? Oh my God, how did she take it?"

"I didn't know about it when I put the video on," Dick admitted. "Elle had forgotten all about it, what with everything that had happened. We were watching some earlier videos and it suddenly popped up at the end. Needless to say, it didn't go over well."

"Perhaps we can pick something up you missed," Bruce commented. "Do you still have it?"

A gamut of emotions ran across Dick's face before he nodded. "I, uh . . . I'll need to make a copy for you."

"You don't have to watch it again, Dick. A fresh set of eyes might be all that is required." Bruce told him.

"No," he was shaking his head. "Whoever is behind this, it seems personal. Maybe I might know the person . . . met him or her before. I should watch it again and pay attention to what the guy says rather than what he's doing." He sighed. "It will be hard, but it has to be done."

"When you're ready, take it down to the Batcave," Bruce instructed. "Less likely chance of Elle seeing it again."

"Right," Tim said. "The sooner we find this bastard, the better."

"We'll leave you to it," Bruce squeezing Dick's shoulder again in support. He looked up at his wayward son. "Alfred wanted me to ask if you're staying for dinner, Jason."

Jason looked up at Bruce. No one but family would have noticed the brief flicker of surprise that had crossed his face. "Oh, uh . . . I . . ."

"You're always welcome," Bruce added quickly.

"I don't know," Jason hemmed. "I have to get back to my sector of town."

"Elle would love to see you again," Dick told him in a bid to convince him to stay. "In fact . . ." A small smile edged his mouth for the first time since Jason made his appearance. "I have something I want to ask you."

Jason eyed Dick warily. "Should I be nervous?"

"Wouldn't be a bad idea to be a little nervous. It could be a walk in the park, or it could be extremely dangerous," Dick told him. "Either way, I need someone I can trust."

Tim snorted. "And you're asking Jason?"

Jason raised an eyebrow. "The Replacement has a point. You sure you trust me?"

"I think I can trust you in this," Dick said. "I'll find out when I ask you."

"So, ask already," Jason griped. "Why all the mystery?"

"Later," Dick told him as the door to the room opened. "After dinner."

Elle walked in at that moment, followed closely by Damian and Alfred. "Jason! What a wonderful surprise," she smiled. "You are staying for dinner, then?"

Jason narrowed his eyes at his elder brother. The edge of his mouth lifted in a crooked smile at the joyful woman who seemed to fill the room like a breath of fresh air.

Dick grinned as Elle walked in his arms and leaned against him. There were few people in this world who could stand to disappoint Elle when her heart was set on something. Jason would be staying.

As if on cue, Jason shrugged. "Might as well. Patrol can wait a couple more hours."

"Very good," Alfred nodded, pleased. "I'll set another place at the table for Master Jason, then."

"He can have my place," Damian snarked. "I've suddenly lost my appetite."

"Damian," Elle's voice contained a significant amount of dismay at the boy's rudeness.

"Fine." The boy rolled his eyes as he turned to walk out. "But I'm not sitting next to him."

Jason barked out a laugh. "Welcome to the family, Elle. Life is bound to be more interesting with you in it."

* * *

 **REACTIONS?**

 **Let me hear from you! It inspires me to write for you faster . . .**

 **I will be splitting my time between this story and another that I plan to finish up in the next couple of weeks. But the wait shouldn't be long between posts. Check on my profile to see what I'm up to if you haven't seen an update within a week of this one.**

 **For the guest who requested Elle meet Helena Kyle and bring her into the fold . . . I honestly don't know much about Helena Kyle. I know that on Earth 2, Selina and Bruce marry and have a daughter named Helena Wayne who grows up to be the Huntress, but again, that is just a general knowledge. Much like the reason I don't write in Stephanie Brown and Cassandra Cain, it is because I don't really know a lot about them. They fall in the gap from where I stopped reading comics and where I picked them back up again. I'm learning, but not enough to do them justice . . . At least not yet anyway. For now, it will just be the boys and even there I tweak a little bit of personality and history to work in my particular AU: Let's call it - Earth 22. ;D**


	3. Being Jason

**WARNING: STRONG LANGUAGE . . . (We're talking a few f-bombs, but you have to give Jay some credit. He did try.)**

* * *

Dick's question would have waited until after dinner. Jason figured the Golden Child would have preferred it that way, but Jason, being Jason, he just didn't have it in him to be cooperative.

"So, Dickweed." It was the closest thing to an insult that Jason felt he could get away with at the table; even then the look that Alfred leveled on him was enough to curl the man's toes inside of his boots. Never say that Jason was a coward, however. "What's this question you wanted to ask me?"

Dick scowled at him as Elle shot him a look of curiosity.

"What question," she asked.

"It's nothing, babe," Dick assured her. "Something that I planned to ask Jay after dinner . . . privately."

Jason, sensing an exposed underbelly, went in for the kill. "Why wait? We're all family here, right? I mean, that's what you told me. You didn't lie to me, now, did you?"

"No," Dick answered through gritted teeth.

Bruce nodded and agreed. Whether or not he was playing deliberately obtuse or honestly hadn't detected blood in the air, Jason didn't know, but he planned to take advantage of it. Family dinners tended to be boring without a bit of spirited conversation to liven things up.

"No, Dick's right, Jason. All of you are brothers now," Bruce murmured; regarding his more obstinate son with some misgiving.

Like he said before . . . Family dinners without a little happy antagonism tended to be tedious. Jason was more than willing to do his part in a gallant effort to prevent that unhappy outcome.

"Then why not just ask me now?" Jason prodded. "No one's birthday is coming up in the next few of weeks, so it's not like you will be giving anything away."

Tim glared at Jason suspiciously. He, at least, knew something was up, but Damian stared curiously at the two eldest sons. The youngest wasn't completely aware of the complexities of the family's history or understood all of the antipathy that still existed between some of them . . . Okay, rather, all of them.

He gave Elle credit, however, as her eyes moved back and forth between the two of them. She, too, was growing suspicious of what Jason was dragging into the light.

"Later," Dick growled; keeping his head down.

"I've got to leave as soon as dinner is over, so let's save time," Jason poked the bull a little harder.

"You know what, Jay? Forget it. I'll ask someone else," Dick snapped.

Jason leaned back with his wineglass. He didn't often get the good stuff, so if he had to be here then he might as well enjoy himself.

"Who are you going to ask?" He glanced at each person around the table.

"Since it won't be you, I don't feel compelled to share," Dick snarked; snatching up his own glass and taking a deep draw. Apparently, Leslie had been taken _big brother_ off the pain meds recently.

"Oh, come on! What's the big secret," Jason smiled. "Of all the people in Gotham, this family is the best there is at keeping things quiet. Spill it, Dickwad! We're all agog!"

Damian snorted into his Ginger Ale. Jason ignored him. He still hadn't forgiven the little twerp for shooting him in the ass at Christmas with his marshmallow gun. It hadn't hurt, but it had been his ego that had been bruised if not exactly his bum.

Elle stared at Dick now. Her smile gone and in its place a look of consternation.

"Fine," Dick set his wine glass down hard enough to crack the stem. "I was going to ask you if you'd accompany Elle to Chicago on Monday."

Jason's smug smile faltered. His eyes flickered over to his future sister-in-law, but her expression had darkened with Dick's announcement. That hadn't been the question he had been anticipating.

"No, Dick," she snapped. "We talked about this already. I'm going to Chicago alone!"

Dick turned his head to look at her. "You agreed to at least consider my suggestion."

"I thought I had explained this to you," she said, her voice rising.

 _Oho, but this looked to be interesting_. _Trouble in paradise already_?

Dick turned abruptly, his chair scraping the floor as he rose to his feet. "You said no to Bruce. I get that; I do! So no Bruce!"

Elle leapt to her feet, undaunted by Dick's intimidation tactics. "I cannot show up with a Wayne on my arm at this meeting! How can I expect the board to take me seriously?"

"You are marrying into the family," Dick pointed out. "Showing up with a Wayne on your arm isn't entirely out of place!"

"You don't understand," she accused, poking his chest.

"Then explain it again! What's your beef with Jason? _He_ doesn't run his own multi-billion dollar company. He _isn't_ in school. _No one_ is going to accuse Jason with walking you step by step through a board meeting! They'll take one look at him and know exactly why he's there!" Dick wasn't exactly yelling, but it was getting close.

Elle glanced over at him, and Jason began to feel a little uncomfortable. He hadn't known the couple had a difference of opinion over the subject of her safety. Dickhead was right in this, though. Elle probably should have a bodyguard until this was wrapped up and the person behind it arrested. Wasn't this what had been behind their move to Gotham in the first place?

"I've been surrounded by bodyguards all of my life," Elle stated. "I'm sick of being treated like I'm made of glass and people tiptoeing around me because they think I'm going to break at the least provocation!"

"Dick's right, Elle," Bruce broke into the argument.

"Stay out of this, Bruce," the couple yelled at him simultaneously.

Amazingly enough, Bruce did just that. He raised an eyebrow at their combined glower, but leaned back in his chair; steepling his fingers as he watched the argument with renewed interest.

To Jason, it was like witnessing a particularly bloody car accident. You couldn't bring yourself to look away. He could feel the deathstare of the youngest member, Damian rightly blaming him for the fight, but ignored it in favor of watching the drama unfolding across the table from him.

"Way to go, Graceless," Tim congratulated him. "You couldn't have just waited?"

"You have to admit, it's entertaining watching Dickhead crash and burn like this," Jason countered.

Dick changed tactics. He stepped closer to Elle, but not angrily. His hands came up to cup her face. "I love you. If something happened to you; I would gladly follow you into the next world without a second glance. But, baby, I want a chance to have a life with you right here. For the first time in a very long time I _want_ to see what tomorrow will bring. The future isn't bleak or scary anymore. I want to experience _all_ of it . . . with you."

The defensiveness in Elle's stance melted away and she raised a hand to touch his face in return. "I want that, too."

"Oh God, I'm going to need a barf bag." Jason muttered under his breath and rolled his eyes.

"Someone wants to take you away from me," Dick insisted. "Sweetheart, I can't just stand by and let that happen. Jason, for all of his obnoxiousness and bullheadedness, would protect you during those time when I can't."

Jason blinked. "Hey!"

Tim elbowed him in the ribs, cutting off his protest.

"He's an asshole," Dick told her softly, "but he does know what he's doing out there."

Jason glared at Tim before he could elbow him again. He didn't protest the insult, however. He _had_ been an ass in instigating what he had suspected was going to be an uncomfortable topic all for a chance at a little entertainment. He hadn't expected it to cause a conflict between Dickhead and his girlfriend, however. Still, it didn't look like the fight was going to come to blows. In fact, the way this was playing out, Jason would be willing to bet that the make-up sex for this little tiff would be epic.

And he would do it all again in a heartbeat for another chance to watch the couple snap B's head off. Instead of leaping to his feet with demands and proclamations, as Jason had expected, Bruce had simply settled back to watch in silence. He wanted to scratch his head at that. Things had certainly changed in this house since the advent of Dick newest flavor of the month.

That wasn't entirely fair. Dickface planned to marry this one. Jason reigned in a snort. Of course, the Golden Child had been prepared to marry two other of his girlfriends at one time or another, and neither of those had worked out. But for whatever reason, Dickhead had B's full support with this one.

And _this_ one was eating Dick's bullshit up like it was candy.

Elle looked at Jason suspiciously again. "What exactly are you suggesting? He's not going to be following me into the boardroom itself, is he?"

"No," Dick assured her. "He'd accompany you on the trip and would wait outside for you to come out before escorting you home."

And for this Jason was grateful. He had no desire sitting through a board meeting, although big brother seemed to be getting a little ahead of himself here. Jason hadn't actually agreed to do shit yet. He was too busy to be following Dick's girlfriend around the state as she went to meetings and ran all of her little errands.

"Better yet, no one could protest his presence because, for all of his annoyance, he is family in the end; your future brother-in-law," Dick finished with a smirk.

"Didn't know how much you cared," Jason drawled.

Dick narrowed his eyes at the evening's instigator. "You did that on purpose."

Jason lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. "You can thank me later."

Dick stiffened. "I can thank you right now if you care to step outside."

Jason snorted. "Where's that famous sense of humor gone?"

"When we're finished, I'll be the only one laughing," Dick growled at him.

Leaning back in his chair, Jason grinned at him. "Have you taken dancing lessons? That was some mighty impressive footwork right there. I think she's almost forgiven you your highhandedness. But you forgot something, Dickiebird . . . I never said I would do it."

"I never asked you," Dick said. "There are others that would do a better job than your irresponsible ass."

Jason narrowed his eyes as his chair thumped back down onto all four legs. "Then what was all that 'he knows what he's doing' bit you were spouting off back there?"

"You could do it if you took anything seriously, Jay, but as usual you've shown me your lack of respect for anything doing with family once too often. I can't trust Elle life with someone whose only enjoyment lies in watching fights erupt around him. I need her to be safe." Dick pointed a finger at his wayward brother.

"And I wouldn't do that? You don't know shit!" Jason snapped back; forgetting what few manners Alfred had once attempted to instill in him.

"I know _you_! You would just as soon use her as bait to bring the enemy out in the open so you could entertain yourself with a good fight," Dick accused, angrily. "Elle could end up hurt or dead in the process. I can't risk it! I can't risk losing her because of _you_!"

Well, now, that just hurt . . .

"Dick, stop," Elle tried to interrupt, but Ass Wonder just pushed her back.

Jason's temper flared, and he surged to his feet. His chair fell back, but he didn't hear it hit the floor. The Replacement had caught it; the little do-gooder. He saw the wide eyes of Elle and Damian, and caught Bruce getting to his feet in his peripheral vision. He ignored them all.

"I would not," Jason planted both fists on the table and leaned in. "With me protecting her, no one would be able to touch her!"

Dick scoffed, waving his hand in Jason's direction. "I need someone who'd be willing to take a bullet for her; not someone too busy hitting up the receptionist to notice impending danger."

"I'd give my life for her, and you know it, Dickwad," Jason yelled.

The silence was total. Jason even thought he could hear the sound of crickets chirping somewhere close.

Dick straightened from where he, too, had been leaning across the table; a satisfied smirk decorating his face.

"Very good. You got the job," he stated in perfect calm. "Be here by six-thirty Monday morning, and plan for the entire day. I can set you up with a map of Chicago and the route Elle's helicopter will be taking and the schematics of Hamilton Industry's headquarters and those of the surrounding buildings before you leave tonight."

Jason blinked. Had he . . .? That bastard had tricked . . .! And Jason had, like a fool, walked right into the middle of it. He considered his 'brother' a moment. Had that idiot planned all this from the start?

Movement caught his eye and Jason looked down to see that a cricket had landed in the middle of the dining room table. What? So, he hadn't been imagining the crickets chirping, after all.

"Well, shoot," Elle said. She poured the contents of her wineglass into Dick's and turned hers upside down over the insect. "Gotcha, you little bugger!"

No sooner than she had done this when another cricket leapt onto the table to land on Jason's plate. A third jumped onto the middle of the table between Tim and Damian's plates. He glanced over to where Alfred had been hovering near the kitchen door. The butler was being his regular unflappable self despite the deterioration of the dinner's conversation.

"Uh, Al, I don't want to necessarily alarm anyone, but I think that maybe you have an infestation or something going on here," Jason quipped lightly.

If nothing else, the appearance of the crickets were rapidly easing the tensions around the table. Dickhead snorted and Elle slapped his arm with a sort of amused annoyance. Damian climbed on his seat and was crawling across the table in an effort to capture the cricket closest to him.

"Don't say it," Elle warned Dick.

"I didn't say anything," Golden Boy grinned at her as he leaned comically away from her ire.

Jason reached down and as he plucked the insect off of his asparagus, something big, black, and hairy hopped onto the table by his silverware.

"What the hell?" He stumbled back in shock. "How the hell did a fucking tarantula get in here!"

"Language, Jason," Alfred reminded him.

While Bruce was rubbing his eyes with one hand, Jason noted he didn't exactly appear to be shocked by the appearance of the party-crashers.

"Language?! Are you f-friggin' kidding me? There's a G-g-goshdarned tarantula on the dining room table! Doesn't anyone else think that's just a little bit odd?" Jason's voice had risen and cracked a bit on the high note.

Okay, so he was freaking out a little. Regular spiders, he could handle, but this one was the size of his _fucking hand_!

Something moved in his peripheral vision and Jason snatched Tim's hand near his shoulder. "What the hell are you doing, Timbo?"

Tim shrugged his shoulders. "You had a cricket on your shoulder and there is one in your hand," he was saying. "I just thought you might want to know that Mook loves crickets."

Jason stared at him as if the teenager had grown two heads. "What's a mook?"

Suddenly the tarantula leapt off of the table and onto Jason's sweater.

" _Gah_! What the _fuck_?" he yelped and stepped back; forgetting that his chair was behind him. Jason stumbled and fell; landing on his back and taking the dining chair with him. "Get that thing off of me!"

Suddenly Elle was kneeling beside him. She held her hand out and the devilspawn climbed onto her hand and crawled with lightning speed up her arm. As if _that_ wasn't creepy as shit, she smiled at him apologetically as Tim leaned over him from the other side with a grin.

"Oh yeah, I forgot to mention it, but Mook – That's the tarantula - He can jump, too," Tim told him cheerily.

"I'm sorry," Elle was apologizing to the room profusely. "I had let him go so he could hunt some of the crickets, but in all the excitement I forgot to put him back in his terrarium."

"Am I right in thinking Mook seems a bit bigger than he was last time we saw him?" Bruce asked this way too calmly considering the pandemonium going on around him.

Elle was looking at the fucking Godzilla-sized spider on her shoulder critically. "Really? I suppose that maybe he's been eating too much lately. He usually only gets two or three crickets in a week." She turned to Dick. "What do you think, honey? Is he getting fat?"

Dick was eyeing the hairy beast now. "Maybe we should look into another method of ridding the manor of the crickets and keep Mook confined to his terrarium for a while. Wouldn't want him getting sick."

Elle pursed her lips. "You'd think that all the extra exercise he's been getting would help him keep his weight down."

Jason gaped.

Alfred interrupted this episode of the Twilight Zone to lean over Jason.

"Do you require assistance in regaining your feet, Master Jason," he asked in his normal, stoic, British demeanor.

His eyes must have been the size of saucers, but Jason shook his head. It took more than a couple of bugs and an arachnid from the depths of hell to get the better of him. Waving the butler away, Jason climbed to his feet; keeping Dick's crazy girlfriend in sight but out of range.

Bruce glanced in his direction. "Are you all right?"

"I think I'll head down to the cave," he replied. "I might have gotten a whiff of Scarecrow's latest toxin or something."

Tim smirked, sitting back down at the table in order to resume his meal. "Scarecrow's still locked up in Arkham. Nice try, though."

"Mook is Dick and Elle's pet tarantula," Damian explained. "Can I take him upstairs for you, Elle?"

She smiled sweetly as she bent and allowed the eleven year old assassin to scoop Mook from her shoulder. "Of course, sweetheart," she crooned to the demon-child.

Jason blinked hard. Damian didn't even balk at the endearment. He left the room at a trot; the spider crawling from the boy's shoulder onto his head as he went. He turned and stared at Dick in astonishment.

"What the f-," he darted a look at Alfred who met it with a raised eyebrow. ". . . f-fragnock," he ended lamely. "You couldn't choose something normal, like a dog? How the heck did you end up with a tarantula as a pet?"

Dick smiled as he held Elle chair for her, and then reseated himself. "He got loose in the apartment one day after Elle threw him on me while I was sleeping."

Jason looked at the woman with new eyes. "You threw a tarantula on him?"

Elle had the decency to blush. "It was a prank," she admitted defensively.

"Some prank," Jason murmured. He found himself impressed; giving her points for creativity. Perhaps there was more to this chick than he realized.

"Anyway, she sort of bonded with the thing during the time it took to catch him," Dick said. He shrugged carelessly. "Mook's been with us ever since."

Bruce chuckled. "I never heard that story."

Elle snatched up Dick's wineglass and took a drink. "Not worth repeating," she assured him.

Dick snorted with laughter. "Hardly."

"I suppose there is a story here behind the crickets, too," Jason asked as he picked up his chair and sat back down.

"Time to change the subject," Elle declared imperiously; a second hot blush staining her cheeks.

"How about this trip to Chicago that I'm about to go on," Jason suggested.

With only a day to plan, there was a lot he needed to know if he hoped to keep his promise. Although, in Gotham City, Dick was the only hit Jason had heard of, that didn't mean that there wasn't someone gunning for Elle elsewhere. He made a note to extend his inquiries into Chicago and Bludhaven as well for a clue as to who may have foolishly decided to take up a contract on a member of his family and family-to-be.

Jason wasn't nearly as familiar with Chicago as he was with Gotham and her ugly sister, Bludhaven. He thought it wouldn't be out of place to call in a few favors. Despite the rumors to the contrary, Jason did still have a friend or two out there willing to drop things on a dime if he asked.

* * *

 **REACTIONS?**

 **Hm . . . This could have some potential.**


	4. Chicago

**Warning: Strong Language here and there . . .**

* * *

In the end, they opted for Jason to accompany Elle as the Red Hood. It was a compromise. Someone from the family was with her, and as the Red Hood, Jason's presence would be accepted as her bodyguard without it seeming to the board members that Elle was in need of coaching. Not that anyone ever meeting Jason Todd-Wayne would ever confuse him with a savvy businessman; his adopted, successful businessman-father notwithstanding.

It really wasn't very far to Chicago from Gotham City by plane. Jason knew that Elle's family was loaded, but climbing onto a private jet brought it home. He's been on Bruce's company jet a few times; it was all beige leather and blond burl wood. The Hamilton jet had crème-colored leather and rich mahogany wood throughout. It reminded him of a box of chocolate candy with caramel centers.

As the Red Hood, Jason sat down across the aisle from her and buckled up as the pilot finished the last checks and began to coast out onto the runway. There was a table in front of Elle's seat and she set her briefcase on it and immediately opened a file. He sighed. This was going to be a long and boring day.

"Not up for any chitchat, hm?" Jason asked; taking off his helmet. He wore a red domino mask beneath the helmet, so he wasn't compromising his identity by getting comfortable. He didn't know why he was even asking her this. He had no desire to talk.

Elle glanced over at him and smiled tightly. She looked great in a navy blue business suit over a beige boatneck sweater and a simple string of pearls. She had tossed her camel-colored, cashmere coat across the seat beside her. Her hair had been sleeked back into a smooth ponytail at the base of her neck.

"Sorry, Jason," she said. "Nerves. Once we're up you can get something to eat in the galley and watch a movie."

"What are you going to do?" As if he didn't already know.

"Go over my notes. Review a few items that are on the schedule that needs to be addressed. I'm fairly certain my brother made sure that everyone knows about my competency hearing," she made a face. "I have to go in strong and show them I can make the right decisions for the good of the company."

"How's that going to work; running your own business out of Chicago from Gotham? Are you and Dickhead going to be moving to Chicago when once we locate and neutralize whoever is out to get you?" Jason asked casually as he played with the controls to his seat.

 _Damn_! _This thing has a butt-warmer_? _Bruce's jet didn't have seats that warmed people's asses_! _Seemed like one of the richest men in the world should have a plane that kept one's bottom toasty_. . .

"We hadn't really talked about it yet, but I have no plans to move back," Elle told him.

"You're staying in Bludhaven or Gotham, then?" Jason withheld his snide remarks, but barely.

"Dick loves it in Bludhaven. He was already on leave, so the Gotham move hasn't changed anything, but we have friends there; his job . . ." Elle shrugged a shoulder. "He wouldn't want to move."

"So, you're going to fly to work every day?" Jason wondered how Dickface felt about that.

Elle sighed and turned in her seat a little. "What are you doing, Jason?"

He held his hands out in defensively. "Hey, I'm just making small talk, that's all!"

"Did Dick put you up to this?" She stared at him suspiciously. "Are you supposed to sound me out or something?"

His eyes widened. "No!" he snorted. "Why the hell would I do that?"

"I'm as open and honest with your brother as he allows me to be," she snapped. "He doesn't need to use you to find out what I plan or don't plan!"

"I promise! I'm not here to pry," he assured her. _Jeez_.

She stared at him another moment, and then shook her head; turning back to the paperwork in front of her.

"Right. Enough small talk," she murmured, already distracted.

"You will need to do everything I say when we arrive," Jason told her.

Elle sighed heavily. He was pissing her off. He didn't really mean to, but he had agreed to do his part to keep her safe. He needed to know she would listen to him when it counted and not panic and run off from him.

"Dick's already gone over this with me this morning. Even Bruce had put in his two-cents on the drive to the airport," she groused.

She had arranged for transportation, only to have it canceled by her future father-in-law in a high-handed move. Alfred had driven her, and Bruce and Dick had sat in the back with her going over the 'plan' which boiled down to 'stay close to Jason and do everything he says'.

"Hey, just want us to be on the same page here," Jason said. "I don't want to lose track of you if things go south."

"I've had bodyguards all my life, Jason. I've had things go south more than once," she admitted. "I know what to do if it should happen again."

 _Really_? He didn't know that. Dick had told them his theory about her brother having it in for her as well as the possibility that the threat might come from some as yet unknown adversary, but he didn't mention that all this was old hat to Elle.

"You've had people come after you before?"

"I don't know if it was personal or not," she finally admitted reluctantly. "I just always assumed it was someone out for my father's money."

She kept her mother's murder to herself. Last thing she needed before a big board meeting was runny mascara. She was wearing waterproof, but understood that waterproof didn't actually mean sobbing-your-heart-out kind of waterproof.

Other than as Robin, Jason never had to contend with kidnappers. He thought he had heard something about it, maybe, happening to Dick once when he had been younger, but no one had been willing to talk about it. And truthfully, Jason hadn't actually been interested as he had been jealous of Dick for most of his time living with Bruce. He and the first Robin had only just been moving past all that and beginning to get along both in and out of the masks when Joker had beaten the shit out of Jason with a crowbar and then blew his ass up.

As soon as the pilot gave the okay, Jason was out of his seat and checking out the galley kitchen. It must have been freshly stocked moments before they boarded. He eyed the salads, but dug into the deli sandwiches before checking out the videos on the opulent sofa and the widescreen television.

 _Might as well enjoy myself now_ , he thought. The day didn't look as though it would be improving anytime soon.

* * *

People began exiting the conference room six hours later. With the exception of a cart of refreshments entering, no one came in or out. So far, the entire day had gone without a hitch, and Jason was due a beer after this. Sitting around six hours was exhausting. He could never have done this as a day job.

He stood up waiting for Elle to come out as the number of people trickling out came to a stop. He had counted twelve people inside of the room plus Elle when they went in; so far, only eleven exited. After several minutes more, Jason moved over to the door and peeked in to see what was taking her.

She was in deep conversation with a youngish man; couldn't be more than seven to ten years her senior. Whatever they were discussing appeared serious, at least; that is, until he smiled and leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek. To Jason, it was rather close to her mouth, _and_ the asshole's hand was on her elbow.

He frowned at the display. They obviously thought they were still private. He kept waiting for Elle to slap the shit out of him for his familiarity; after all, she was an engaged woman. About to marry _his_ _brother_ , in fact! So, when she smiled at him and allowed him to maul her in a hug . . . Okay, maybe maul was too strong of a word, but should she be allowing strange men, not Dick, to feel her up?

All right, so the guy's hands didn't actually stray anywhere truly inappropriate, but Jason still found himself seething on Dickhead's behalf. _What_. _The_. _Hell_?

"Are you sure about this?" the dark-haired man was asking her.

"Positive, Michael. It's the best decision for everyone involved," Elle assured him with a hand on his forearm.

Jason scowled.

"I still think you're making a mistake," Michael told her.

"No mistake," Jason growled as he stomped forward.

The two looked startled by his interruption. _Good_. Then Elle surprised him by smiling.

"J-oh, um, Michael Grassi, this is the Red Hood," Elle introduced him. "He agreed to escort me here from Gotham City and back as my personal bodyguard."

"Red Hood?" Michael tilted his head as he took in the mask, the red helmet under one of Jason's arms and the red bat on display across his gray armor. The hesitation was nearly non-existent as he stuck out his hand in greeting.

"A pleasure meeting you. I hope you take good care of Bella for us." Michael pulled Elle closer into a kind of one-armed hug.

The man obviously liked to live dangerously. Jason gripped his hand. If Michael was startled by the strength of his grip, he gave away nothing; merely increased the strength of his own to match. The man stood at least as tall as Jason; his dark blue eyes looking directly into the lenses of Jason's domino mask. But he had released Elle; just as Jason wanted him to.

If Elle noticed the male posturing going on, she didn't mention it. Instead she turned back to the table to finish stuffing a few folders into her briefcase.

"That's my job, Michael," Jason said as he finally released his hand and stepped back slightly in order to let Elle move between them. "I'm here to protect Miss Hamilton from all possible dangerous situations and importuning reprobates."

Michael's mouth quirked up. "Reprobates, eh? We wouldn't want any of those around."

"Definitely not," Elle agreed.

She slipped her hand through Jason's arm and gave him a little tug. He might have noticed her amusement had he looked over at her, but he was too busy glaring at the bum that was making advances at his brother's fiancée.

"I'm ready whenever you are, Red Hood," she smirked. "Time to go home."

Jason nodded. "Right. Home . . . Back to your fiancé who's waiting for your safe return." He glared a second more in order to get his meaning across. Maybe the guy didn't read the paper or watch the news, but the engagement had been announced a while ago.

Michael hummed pleasantly. "Have a safe trip, Bella. I'll have my secretary call you. How about you and I discuss our plans over dinner?"

* * *

Elle bit her lip to keep from laughing when she felt Jason stiffen beside her. Damn Michael for taking advantage of Jason's obvious misunderstanding to tease him a bit. The Red Hood didn't have a reputation in Chicago, so Michael didn't get that he was poking the bear.

"Sounds wonderful, Michael," she said; tightening her hold on Jason's arm.

"It's the least I can do," he followed up smoothly. "After all, we'll likely be working very late. It's only right that I feed you."

Jason slowed down, and Elle tugged him forward. She glanced over her shoulder at Michael and made a face; shaking her head at his ridiculous play even as she quickened her pace. Jason didn't say a word until they entered the elevator to take them up to the building's helipad.

When the door closed he rounded on her.

"What the _hell_ was that?" He barked at her. "A few hundred miles and you forget you're engaged . . .? And to my fucking _brother_ , no less!"

She smiled charmingly; completely calm to his fury. "That was _you_ getting your knickers in a twist over something completely harmless."

"You _let_ him kiss you!"

"That was a peck by someone who is a close, personal friend," she corrected.

"How close and how personal a friend is he?" Jason crossed his arms, eyeing her skeptically.

She raised her eyebrow at the offense he was taking on Dick's behalf. Jason had been acting as though he didn't like Dick, and even declared once that they weren't real brothers. She would have thought he wouldn't care one way or the other. As it was, she thought the snit he was in was adorable.

"We've been friends for years, _not_ that it's any of your business. If Michael had been the man for me, we would have been together long before now," Elle declared. "Truly. I love your brother with my whole heart. No other man will be turning my head; I can promise you that."

"Uh huh," Jason huffed. He put on his helmet as they neared the roof. "I don't suppose _Michael_ knows that, does he?"

Elle's smile returned. "I invited him to the wedding."

"Then, what was all that talk about dinner and working late?" He looked at her.

At least she thought he looked at her. The helmet didn't appear to have lenses like his mask did. Although a front of the helmet was molded into the shape of a face, it looked to be solid. How the _heck_ did he see through it?

"Michael Grassi is Hamilton Industries' Chief Financial Officer," she replied. "I had just asked him to step into the position of CEO in my place. I trust him to run the company, and that allows Dick and me to remain in Bludhaven permanently. The meeting he was talking about will be to finalize it and make it official. I'll still have some say in how the company's run, but the day-to-day operations will be his domain. This will allow him to make most of the decisions on my behalf."

Elle grinned at him. "You know, Michael was only teasing you with his insinuation that there was more to it because he recognized your rather inappropriate possessiveness of someone you are only supposed to have a professional interest in. People eat together over business all the time. Dick may even join us. He'll need to get to know Michael anyway."

"Huh, well, he was lucky I didn't choose to take more offense than I did," Jason growled. "He'd be in for a world of hurt if I actually liked Dickhead. Not that I do, but it's the principle of the matter, you know . . . What with him being family and all."

Elle laughed and bumped his arm with her shoulder. "Aw, you love your brother."

He looked down at her. Elle came up to his chest. "I do not," he muttered.

The elevator doors opened and she moved to step out. "It's okay, Jay. I think it's very sweet."

Jason stepped in front of her and took her arm. "It's _not_ sweet," he grumbled. "And I step out first."

"Oh, sorry," she told him. "Our arrival went smoothly," she reminded him. "Do you honestly believe anyone will try something?

She could almost hear him rolling his eyes at her.

Jason snorted. "I see why Dick asked me to escort you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She thought she should be taking offense.

"You are a good person," Jason admitted. "And as such, you don't always see the bad stuff that people do."

She wanted to correct him, but other than a few incidents recently, most people had been, in general, kinder to her than some of her own family members.

"I watch the news," she muttered under her breath.

Jason snorted as he tugged her to a sheltered spot near to the door. "Stay here until I call for you," and then he proceeded to step out onto the rooftop. After a long moment, he stuck his head back in and waved her over. "Let's go, princess."

Jason tucked her under his left arm; keeping his right, more dominant hand free. Dick said that his brother could shoot equally well with either hand, but she figured the right side was more exposed than the left.

As they moved out, a redheaded man with a bow moved in cover her other side. She looked at him suspiciously. Why did he seem so familiar? A red mask covered his eyes and he wore a red and black suit of a superhero mixed incongruously with a backward baseball cap that had seen better days. She gaped . . . and then glanced at Jason in shock.

Had this been Dick's idea or Jason's? She rolled her eyes in exasperation. They were taking this protection thing too far. If this were really necessary, Elle could have arranged for Edward and Hugh to resume their duties. At least they knew each other and everyone's peculiarities enough to not get on her every last nerve.

"You going to introduce us?" She elbowed Jason lightly in his ribs.

He didn't bother looking at her as he answered. "Arabella Hamilton, meet Red Arrow. Red Arrow, this is Miss Hamilton."

Red Arrow was busy scanning the surrounding building for glints of metal or anything else that might hint at there being a muzzle of a gun present, but he acknowledged the introductions.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," he said.

Elle's eyes nearly bulged out of her head. " _Roy_?" It came out a little louder than she had intended, but it got the two men's immediate attention. "Roy Harper?"

Red Arrow's head swung around and he glared, not at her, but at Red Hood. "You _told_ her?" He hissed angrily.

"I didn't tell her nothing!" Jason looked down at her. "Did Dickhead tell you everyone's identities over dinner or something?"

 _Terrific_. She'd just pissed everyone off. " _No_! He didn't tell me anyone's identities actually . . . Well, except maybe yours," she clarified, ruefully.

"How the _hell_ , then, did you just . . .?" Roy snapped in disbelief.

"I-I have a gift," she answered weakly. "I have an ear for voices. I recognized yours."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Roy practically bellowed. "Like I'm going to believe that! I only met you that one time, and you met dozens of new people that night."

"It's a _gift_ ," she exploded defensively.

"I was disguising my voice . . ."

"You were trying to disguise your voice," she countered, dryly. "But you weren't succeeding at it."

Roy looked back at Jason. " _You_ told her, didn't you?"

"I did not tell her anything! She didn't even know you guys were coming," he growled.

" _You guys_? There's more than one of you here? Where's the other one? Have I met him already, too?" Elle stopped to glance around the rooftop. She didn't see anyone else. Maybe he was in the helicopter?

Jason spun around in a one eighty; putting his arm around her waist to get her moving. "Jesus, Elle, don't stop in the middle of an open area like that! Are you trying to make yourself a target?"

"S-Sorry," she stammered and began looking around for whoever Jason believed was out here to get her. "You don't really believe Nameless is out there, do you? There is no way he's healed enough to make another attempt after everything; not yet, anyway."

"Nameless? Who's that?" Roy . . . Er, Red Arrow asked.

"The first guy who went after Dick and Elle. That's what we've been calling him for lack of an ID." Jason sped up; forcing Elle to break into a jog to keep up. No easy feat for a girl in heels. He put a hand on top of her head as they neared the waiting chopper; its propellers already spinning.

"Wait! _What_?" Red Arrow gaped. "You never said anyone was after Dick, too! Who's watching over _him_?"

"He doesn't need anyone watching over him," Jason snorted.

"But as Dick Grayson, he won't have the same kind of options going into a fight as he would as . . ." Roy argued.

" _Batman_! Batman will be watching over him, okay? Now fucking pay attention!" Jason barked.

He yanked open the door to the copter and helped Elle climb in. Elle stumbled over and sat in the seat near the other door. Jason immediately yanked her up and practically slung her into the seat behind the pilot.

" _Gah_ ," Elle yelped startled. "What are you doing?"

"Sit there," he pointed at her. "Less of a target." He sat down in the seat she had chosen. "Fasten up, sweetheart. We're taking off."

Red Arrow climbed in and sat down by the other door as Jason tapped the ceiling to let the pilot know to go. The helicopter immediately lifted off the roof of Elle's company building.

"What's going on," Elle asked. It wasn't too loud in the helicopter, being designed for wealthy passengers as it was. They could still hear each other if they talked a little louder than normal. "You didn't take this many precautions on the way here."

He glanced at her. "Of course, I did! You just didn't see them, then" he told her. "You're seeing them now."

Elle slumped back, annoyed, and she hated to admit it, a little motion sick already. "I hate sitting backwards," she grumbled.

She'd be feeling nauseous for the rest of the day at this rate. She almost wished someone would have taken a potshot at her. At least then all this cloak and dagger stuff would have been worth it.

* * *

 **REACTIONS? Pretty please?**

 ** _I'm back_! That took a lot longer than it was supposed to, and I apologize for that. But the other stories were great fun and all but one of them is over and has been ended happily. Check them out if you like reading about a younger Dick Grayson as Robin or even part of the Young Dick Grayson series where a good portion of those stories occur before he even learned his new guardian was Batman.**

 **I have a poll going if you haven't bothered to check out my profile. It has been suggested that I post some of the deleted scenes and excerpts that I have written for my other posted stories (Including Last Chance - and I even have one already for this story that I couldn't make fit) in a collection. They were a little too good to just get rid of permanently, but for some reason couldn't be used; whether it didn't fit the plot or I didn't have room or some other reason. If you are interested in seeing some of these, vote YES. I have options for everyone, so check it out and put in your two cents.**

 **I am still working on Derailment, but as I'm usually working on at least two stories, it shouldn't prevent me from getting you out a new chapter once a week or so, if not more. I have some free time this summer, so I'll be writing a LOT! Check in often - Hit up my profile for what's new. I update regularly several times a week and date the posts so they're easy to find.**


	5. A Friend Of A Friend

**Surprise! I was on a roll last night. The muse has struck and she wanted this chapter out first. An author knows that when the muse is working, you don't interrupt her. *Forgive any typos and errors. I promise to take care of them in a bit. The story should still be enjoyable, however. Not too many anyway. Enjoy!**

 **Warning: Some Strong Language, Peril . . .**

* * *

"So, what options do we have left?"

Dick looked at the three lawyers across from him. They had been working on Elle's case for about a week, and they were nearing the end of the meeting. Names and addresses had been exchanged of the psychiatrists that Elle had used and interviews arranged. But the hearing was looming over their heads and had yet to have been approved for a move to Gotham City.

Kelly Bartholomew shuffled her papers. She was a lovely black woman with an amazing bone structure and startling pale brown eyes that looked almost yellow in certain lighting. Cat eyes, was Dick's first thought. She was as sharp as those cheekbones, asking smart questions and giving what Dick thought was sound advice. No wonder the law firm snapped her up shortly after she had passed the bar.

On either side of her were two other lawyers. Men is power suits that radiated strength and competency. Carl Solomon was one of the partners of the firm, and was here simply because of who his clients were. He was comfortably taking a backseat to Ms. Bartholomew, as this was her area of expertise. On her other side was Jarrod Osborne, a lawyer specializing in both business law and with some experience with hereditary law.

Bruce sat with Dick upon his invitation, and he seemed to be satisfied with their performance based upon much of what had been discussed. His relaxed manner eased the tension in Dick's shoulders more than anything.

Kelly sighed. "Good news and bad news."

"Bad news first." Dick wanted it out of the way. He preferred to take care of potential problems and then end the meeting on a good note.

"The request to have the hearing moved to Gotham City has been denied," she told him, not unsympathetically.

"But Elle is a resident of Bludhaven and has recently moved here to Gotham City. The travel is a hardship, and as she is the one who is being judged . . ." Dick snapped.

"It isn't a judgement as you might see in a criminal investigation," Kelly corrected him.

"This affects every aspect of her life," Dick argued. "Of _our_ lives. An unhappy verdict will decimate her . . . Us."

"I understand," Kelly tried to placate him, "But the fact remains that Miss Hamilton had been a resident of Chicago for more than six months last year. She owns a home there, and the business in question is based out of that city. The judge doesn't agree that it is a hardship for her to attend the hearing in Chicago as planned."

"Barely more than six months," Dick said. "She moved here in mid-July."

"It is more than six months by those two weeks. It is past the cut-off date." Kelly reminded him.

Bruce set a hand on Dick's shoulder. "Calm down. This isn't the most important thing we're facing. We can still work with this."

Dick glared at him, although his ire wasn't directed at his adopted father. No, Dick's anger was saved solely for the source of Elle's troubles; her half-brother, Aiden Marcel Hamilton.

"She requested the hearing be moved to prevent the likelihood that the judge assigned to it of being bribed . . ."

"Dick," Bruce interrupted.

He took a breath. "Being financially influenced to concede the verdict in favor of her asshole brother's unfounded accusations."

Bruce sighed and leaned back in his chair. He was glad, too, that Dick had insisted he attend the meeting with him. His son was a powder keg just waiting for a spark, but at least Bruce's presence kept him in his seat and his voice within the polite decibel range.

"We will continue to request that the judge to sit for the hearing be assigned at the last minute. At the moment, that is the best we can do." Kelly told him. "And we have requested an increase in security during the hearing as well. The threats on your lives will be taken into account and arrangements made to ensure Miss Hamilton's and your safety."

"Thank you," Bruce nodded.

"Okay, enough of that," Dick grumbled. He shrugged his shoulders to loosen them once again. "What is the good news? We can use a bit of that."

"We requested time, citing the travel arrangements of several of our key expert witnesses, and it has been granted. We have a six week reprieve from yesterday's date. The date being set tentatively around March fifteenth." She continued quickly before Dick could interrupt another time. "I realize this could be seen as good and bad depending on your outlook."

"I would have preferred sooner rather than later," Dick huffed. _The sooner we get this over with, the better._

"Miss Hamilton wasn't of the same mind," Kelly pointed out. "She wished to have more time in which," the lawyer smiled here, "to arrange for a proper wedding."

Dick blinked. He had expected to be married by a judge, and hadn't given it much more thought than that . . . But yeah, he knew that Elle was a romantic who would love a traditional wedding. But most society weddings took a year or more to plan, and however much time she could possibly be awarded by the judge wouldn't be nearly enough . . . Unless, perhaps, a couple of checkbooks could sway the outcome during the planning of it.

He knew nothing about this stuff. He and Babs hadn't managed to get to the planning stage either before she had called it off the first time, or later during the second time he had asked her.

He bit his lip, thinking about his engagement to Koriand'r, or Starfire as she was more commonly known here on earth. _They_ had gotten much farther along . . . He almost cringed remembering exactly how and when _that_ wedding had gotten called off. Kori had done pretty much all of the planning with the help of some of the other Titans. Dick had only needed to show up. He ran a hand through his hair.

It wasn't often that he thought of Kori and what might have been. All in all, he thought he came out of that one all right. Had he truly loved her? Yes, once upon a time . . . Did he love her still? No . . . Not in the way she deserved. He had grieved the death of that relationship for a time as well, but life had a way of delivering up something even better right around the corner.

How close he had come to never meeting Elle . . . Or meeting her and not being free to have . . . _This_! He couldn't imagine a love any better than what they shared right now, and he wasn't foolish enough to want to search for anything more, even if the bond would have let him. It was why he worried about her.

Funny, he had worried about Babs, too, but she got angry with him for it. Kori? He had worried more for the enemy than Kori. Elle, however, might get frustrated with him, but then she would smile, kiss him sweetly on the mouth, and thank him for it.

Dick worried about Elle now, too, but for an entirely different reason.

He hadn't told Elle anything about Kori . . . Her upset after finding Bab's ring was bad enough. He knew he would have to come clean with her eventually about it, however. The last thing either of them needed was for that fiasco to come out before Dick could screw up his courage enough to tell her about it himself.

He wondered how long he could possibly put it off.

* * *

Elle watched the city pass her by. It was going in the wrong direction, though, and she swallowed hard as saliva flooded her mouth. Flying backward sucked!

She patted at her forehead with her sleeve and glared at Jason who, of course, was ignoring her. He was scanning the buildings they were flying over as was Roy sitting on the opposite side of the helicopter. She risked peeking out the window and immediately regretted it. But she also noticed they were flying lower than they had coming in from the airport.

Elle cleared her throat.

"Are we supposed to be this low?"

Jason appeared to finally notice her. "No, we shouldn't be," he admitted. "You're looking a little pale," he noted as he released his seatbelt and moved to up to the passenger seat opposite the pilot.

"Shut up," she groaned.

She couldn't hear the conversation, and truthfully wasn't entirely interested in it. Her concentration was on retaining as much of her lunch as possible during the next fifteen minutes or so. They weren't that far out, but fifteen minutes seemed depressingly like an eternity.

Roy looked over at her. "You don't look so good. Are you feeling all right?"

Elle swallowed again as she shook her head. "I can't travel like this," she told him just loud enough for him to hear. "It makes me ill."

"Ew," the redheaded archer leaned slightly away from her. "Um, do you need an airsick bag?"

She smirked and took some small comfort in that Roy suddenly was looking a little green himself after her confession. She gave up. They were just going to have to deal . . .

"I'm sorry, but I have to move," Elle panted.

Jason glanced back just as she unbuckled her seatbelt. "Hey! What are you doing? Sit back down and buckle up, Elle!"

The look she threw at him should have fried him to a crisp. Unfortunately, it did not, so she ignored the way he groused and stood up.

"I have to change seats," she managed to gasp out.

"Bullshit! You need to sit back down where I told you and fasten up."

Jason unhooked his own and twisted as if he were going to come back there; she supposed in order to force her back into her seat. She wondered how he would look wearing her lunch, and thought it might even be worth getting sick to enact this small sense of vengeance.

At that moment there was a sharp crack; like a rock hitting a windshield, and then abruptly, the helicopter pitched to one side and several things happened at once.

Jason looked at the pilot and lunged for the controls.

"He's been shot," he yelled to Roy. "We're under attack! Get Elle back in her seat!"

Roy had turned in response to the lurch and Jason's voice. He reached for his seatbelt in order to be able to reach for Elle. But Elle fell toward the door; her hands out to somehow catch herself! One hand grabbed the lever and suddenly the door fell away! It just wasn't there anymore . . . Her balance off and her hand being jerked with the door's lever, Elle fell out of the helicopter!

She screamed as her body fell free of the vehicle; only her grip on the door's lever prevented her falling immediately to her death. The helicopter dipped and swung sideways as Jason fought to regain control before the copter crashed into the side of one of the buildings. Her eyes widened as the helicopter's blades whirled dangerously close to her. They were flying almost sideways!

Roy shot an arrow into the opposite door and used a connecting line to lower himself towards her. He reached out a hand.

"Grab hold," he yelled to her. "I'll pull you inside!"

Elle didn't know if she could force herself to release her grip on the door voluntarily. It was a struggle, but she tightened her hold with one hand and reached for Red Arrow with the other. Several pings and another loud crack sounded around them. Elle could hear it even above the noise the helicopter was making.

Someone was still shooting at them!

"Shit!" Elle could hear Jason yelling from his precarious position in the copilot's seat. "Plan B. Get her out of here!"

Roy grabbed Elle's free hand. Terrified, she let go with the other, trusting Dick's friend to pull her to safety.

Instead, he looked her in the eye and said, "Trust me. You're going to be alright!" And then he let go . . .

" ** _Nooooo_** . . .!"

Elle's screamed as she began free falling toward the hard asphalt below. They were an easy sixty stories high. Six hundred feet! She was going to plunge six hundred feet to her death! Oh God, Dick! Dick would die with her! The stray thought crossed her mind that Dick's friends sucked!

She was falling backward; facing the sky and the helicopter she was just a passenger in. The helicopter was in trouble, she could see. Jason was obviously having trouble getting it to straighten out so the he could put it down on one of the rooftops. If the blades struck one of the buildings, however, it was all over for them as well.

Her shrieks were cut off as powerful arms closed around her.

 _What_? She swung her face around to her . . . rescuer?

The face, inches from hers, was breathtakingly beautiful and at the same time . . . vaguely wrong; alien. Her face seemed slightly larger, longer, and sharper than hers . . . Did that make any sense? She didn't think so either.

The alien woman had a deep golden skintone unlike any other Elle had ever seen before. Her emerald eyes were missing the whites and the irises were just a slightly deeper shade of green that the rest. Her bright auburn hair flowed around her; not whipping in the wind as was Elle's, but almost as if it were flames!

 _Oh my God_! _Was her hair on fire_?!

"I have you," the woman's silken voice promised.

And she did . . . somehow! They were no longer falling, but flying!

Elle wrapped her arms around the woman's neck. The wind blew any words Elle might have said away as they streaked across the sky toward . . . She squinted against the wind; her eyes tearing in reaction. What was that below them? Elle struggled to make sense of it as the tall buildings fell away and only open air remained.

A tower loomed in the distance; growing exponentially as they neared . . . A large building, and then . . . A hanger! That was a hanger for planes! They were at the airport! The alien woman had flown her to the airport!

The wind died away as they slowed in descent. Soon they had landed on the tarmac just outside of one of the open hangers. The woman set her down carefully.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

Elle had no idea how to answer that question, so she concentrated on forcing her spaghetti legs to hold her upright. They were shaking so hard, it was a little embarrassing, but Elle told herself that she had just fallen out of a damned helicopter, so she should be allowed a little leeway. It took her a couple of moments longer that she thought it should have to get herself under control, but the moment she did, she turned to her rescuer to thank her.

And gasped.

Elle looked up and up. The alien had to be over six foot tall! All in all, she was larger than life; slightly . . . _more_ . . . than even a very tall human woman. Her shoulders were a little bit broader; her arms slightly larger while still appearing slender and in proportion to the rest of her body . . . And what a body!

She would put an hourglass to shame. Her long-sleeved, purplish-gray armor barely covered her breasts and her belly was completely exposed. Her shorts were a similar material or metal, or whatever the hell it was, as her top. She wore thigh-high boots, wrist bands, and a collar of sorts.

And her fire hair seemed weightless as it flowed around her.

Aliens existed . . . Elle knew that. She had met Superman for heaven's sake, but the Man of Steel didn't radiate heat, or danger, or _power_ the same way as did the woman in front of her. Elle felt overwhelmed and more than a little bit awestruck. Whoever or whatever this woman was; Elle knew that she didn't shy from danger or violence. She seemed to embody both of those aspects.

 _A warrior_ . . . The word seemed to fit better than anything else in her vocabulary.

"You never said," the alien repeated, "if you were alright."

Elle opened her mouth and closed it; trying to gather her thoughts. _Was she alright_?

"I-I . . . uh, I think so," she stammered. "Thank you . . . for saving me."

The alien smiled at her. Her teeth looked brilliant; large and straight . . . And to Elle's everlasting relief, fangless.

Her adrenaline was crashing and it was making her giddy. Elle started laughing; unable to help herself. She was alive! Not a broken, greasy mess on the city streets and not forced to deal with a hungry, flaming-haired, warrior princess with fangs.

 _Life was good_!

 _Oh God_! She was hysterical.

"You must be okay, so I can go and check on the health of my companions," she said.

Elle could feel the strum of her low voice as it shivered through her. The strange woman had a great voice; the odd thought came out of nowhere. She glanced around her and recognized her father's plane . . . Her plane, now.

"I'm fine," she told the warrior woman. Elle realized that the alien was talking about Jason and Roy; that Jason must have asked her to assist today. It was a very good thing that he had, she thought. "Please, go and help them! Don't worry about me."

"I did not detect any threats here," she assured Elle. "You should be safe, but you should wait on your aircraft until I or one of the others return."

"What's your name?" Elle asked all of a sudden. "Who are you?"

The smile came back. "I am a friend of a friend," she said. "My name is Koriand'r of Tamaran. The people of earth call me Starfire."

Starfire turned away and her hair looked like it flared as if someone had blown on a flame, and she took off into the air; gravity was apparently forgotten when it came to her. There was a faint red trail from behind her that briefly allowed a lowly, earthbound woman to follow her path in the air before it faded from sight.

She was going after Jason and Roy. Elle thought that if they could just stay alive long enough for Starfire to reach them, that they would be okay. Elle put a hand out against the wall of the hanger to steady herself. She didn't see her pilot, but she had called to say they were on their way, so he should be nearby.

Elle walked back toward the jet a little unsteadily, but under her own power at least, hoping the door was open so she could enter. As she did, she couldn't help thinking about the alien woman. She obviously moved in the same circles as other super heroes, although Elle hadn't heard of her personally. But then she only knew a few of the names of some of the Justice League members. Heck, she hadn't even known what city that Batman worked out of before moving to Bludhaven . . .

She had said she was a friend of a friend. Did she mean Jason? Elle frowned slightly as the thought crossed her mind that the warrior woman could have also been referring to Dick.

Feeling somewhat intimidated, Elle thought it had been difficult enough to come to terms with his engagement to the former Batgirl. Elle couldn't imagine what sort of self-esteem crisis she would be facing if Dick had dated someone like . . . . What did she say her name was? Koriand'r . . . Starfire.

Elle shook herself. This was ridiculous! Was she going to question Dick's relationship with every female super she ever hears tell of? Elle climbed the steps and entered the jet.

She suddenly needed a drink.

* * *

Jason ran up the steps into the jet barely thirty minutes later.

"Elle? Where are you?"

Jason was furious when Kori had returned to help them. He had already managed to land on a rooftop, but it hadn't been pretty. But any landing you can walk away from was a good landing.

They had searched the surrounding buildings for their sniper, but had found no one, although Jason was pretty certain he found the apartment from which their would-be assassin had operated. The owner was out of town, and the no one was aware that anyone had been using it either long-term or even in just the last hour.

So, while he and Roy had, with Kori's help, discovered where the man or woman had been holed up, but that was it. Everything appeared to be wiped clean of prints belonging to anyone but the owner and anything else that might have left a clue to whom their enemy was.

Starfire and Roy entered the plane behind him. Roy paused to admire the plush interior causing Kori to bump into him.

"Damn it, Kori! You were supposed to stay with her," Jason snapped.

"She said she was fine, and even told me to go help you," Kori argued calmly. "I had found no signs of danger, and trusted that she knew herself well enough to speak to me the truth."

"Gah! This is Elle we're talking about here. Dick told me she nearly died after interrupting a mugging," Jason groused. "She doesn't always know to stay where she'd be safe. That's why he sent me with her, and why I asked you two for your help!"

He pushed further back into the plane. There was another two doors back here. One, he knew belonged to the lavatory, and assumed the other was some sort of . . . Yes, bedroom. He blew out a breath. Elle was sprawled across the queen-sized bed. He stalked over to her; reaching out to shake her a bit.

"Elle? Hey, wake up," he barked. "I need to see if you're alright."

She rolled away from him. "I'm fine," she told him. "Why wouldn't I be fine?"

His eyes widened behind his mask. "Are you kidding me? You just fell out of a helicopter while some nutjob was taking potshots at us!"

"Go away, Jason," she snapped.

He might have taken her word for it and left if she hadn't sniffled immediately afterwards. Frowning, he moved around the bed and sat down beside her. He studied the tears that streaked her face.

"You're not okay," he stated. "Are you hurt, though?"

He could deal with a few tears, as uncomfortable as that made him, as long as she wasn't injured.

"I lost my briefcase," she sniffled.

He blinked. "I think we can get you a new one. Maybe I can send Kori back after it."

She shook her head as she wiped her eyes on the bedspread. "My cell was in it," she explained. "The phone on the plane isn't working. I can't call Dick! He must be worried out of his mind by now."

"Nah, he couldn't have heard about this yet," Jason reassured her. "The news stations are fast, but not that fast."

His own cell had been damaged when it fell out of his pocket and cracked the casing. They just didn't make them like they used to. Maybe Roy had his. Anything, if it would calm her down, he thought. He felt a prickle behind his own eyes, incongruously. _What the fuck_?

She kept shaking her head, even as she pushed herself up. "He'll _know_ , Jason. He would have felt it."

"Felt . . .?" What the hell was she talking about? "Look, if you need to call him, let me see if Roy has his phone on him."

"Are you two okay?" Elle asked, wiping her eyes again. "I'm sorry. Adrenaline crash, I think."

"We're fine," repeating her earlier assurance back at her. "I was able to land the thing safely on top of one of the buildings."

"I'd have never forgiven myself if you were hurt," she told him.

"Elle, I'm here as your bodyguard. It's kind of my job to be willing to get hurt in order to keep you safe."

"But what would I have told Dick," she gaped at him, "if something happened to you?"

"Dickhead's first priority will always be you, sweetheart," Jason laughed, a little relieved when the urge to cry began to fade.

"What would I have done, then, Jason?" She smiled at him and touched his face.

Jason stared at her. His heart picked up its beat when he realized she was sincere. It had been too long since anyone had truly cared about his well-being. Oh, Alfred had always made him feel like he was important, and Dick wasn't the worst; just annoying as hell. But in the privacy of his heart, he could admit that maybe the idiot might miss him if he died . . . And stayed dead, this time.

But Elle had somehow taken their odd group and become attached to each of them. She had a way of making you feel as if you were one of the most important people in her life.

Jason snorted and stood up. He was getting maudlin. Time to grab the pilot and get Elle back to Gotham and Dickweed. He shook his head in wonder. How did Dick always seem to find the good ones? The asshole needed to pick one and leave the rest to the other poor schmucks.

Elle moved to follow him out. He thought that if Dick didn't get this one secure, Jason would have to beat some sense into him. If he had to pick just one, Elle was a good choice.

* * *

"How are you, Roy?" Elle asked as she moved into the main cabin.

"You aren't mad at me because I dropped you, are you?" Roy kept his distance until he could learn the answer to his question.

Her eyebrow rose as she answered him. "You could have warned me, and then said there was someone standing by to catch me, you know."

She appeared calm, so he smirked and sat in one of the chairs. "And why would I have wanted to do that? I only wish I could have gotten a picture of your face."

Elle stepped close and grabbed his hat off of his head suddenly. She slapped the top of his head with it, and then handed it back.

"Ow," he yelped, startled. It hadn't hurt, though. He followed up with a grin.

As Jason moved back outside to search out the pilot, Kori and Elle sat down near him.

"So, Starfire," Elle began, "how do _you_ know Dick?"

Roy's eyes bulged and he nearly leapt to his feet, but it was already too late. "Kori, don't answer that!"

But Kori was smiling sweetly as the words simply tumbled out. "Oh, we were engaged to be married once. Unfortunately, the minister was murdered and the ceremony was necessarily interrupted."

* * *

 **REACTIONS?**

 **Uh Oh . . . Oh, come on! You had to know that was coming!**

 **I tweak Starfire just a bit. Her costume is similar to the more modern version that we're seeing out now, but I made Kori out as more of a mix, but closer to what she was in the earlier Titans. She is taller than Dick; can look Jason in the eye, in fact. She is an alien, and I try to bring that out. If I could pluck Starfire out of the comics, this is how I imagine her to really be. Again, her history, like Roy's, is convoluted and confusing, so sorry now to any purists out there. She is how the Koriand'r would be from this particular dimension. Hopefully, still likeable, though.**

 **Jason is going to be so pissed! But it's his own fault. He should have told her specifically not to say anything, right? Not sure how that would have worked out. Starfire wouldn't think she would need to lie about it. Oh well . . . It had to happen sooner or later. ;D**


	6. Replay

**Warning: Some Language . . .**

* * *

"Aren't you supposed to be in school?" Dick tossed a plum at Tim as he came through the door into the kitchen. He grabbed his own fruit and closed the refrigerator door.

"My last class ended at two," Tim told him as he bit into the fruit. Juice ran down his chin and dripped onto his shirt. "Oh, crap! I like this shirt," he muttered with a full mouth.

Dick tossed him a kitchen towel. "No biggie. Toss it in the hamper. You still have clothes here, you know."

"Is Elle and Jason not back yet?" Tim asked this as he wiped his shirt down.

"Jason just called," Dick informed him. "The meeting just let out and he's already alerted the pilots. We'll need to leave to go pick them up at the airport in another hour and a half."

"Where's Bruce? Did he go into the office after your meeting with Elle's lawyers?" Tim tossed the towel on the counter and sat across from Dick at the table.

"He's down in the cave. He took the day off for this." Dick shook his head. He hated that the family was getting so caught up in his and Elle's problems. He appreciated that they were going out of their way for them, but it made him feel guilty, too.

Tim stared at him from across the table. It was like the teenager could read him like a book. _Who knows_ , Dick thought to himself, _maybe he could_.

"We're doing it because we want to, Dick," Tim said; successfully creeping Dick out. "We like her, too, and she makes you happy. We _like_ seeing you happy."

"How do you do that?"

Tim grinned; not even pretending he didn't know what Dick was talking about. "I've always been good at reading people, but you're easier than most."

Dick made a face. "Great," he said dryly.

"I like not having to guess what you're thinking or feeling. Makes you more comfortable being around." Tim finished his plum and tossed the seed into the trash bin. "Two points!"

"Pennyworth doesn't like it when you do that, Drake," Damian announced as he entered the kitchen next.

"What Alfred doesn't know . . ." Tim shrugged. Damian would probably tell on him anyway.

Dick finished his plum and tossed its seed in after Tim's and also scored. He threw his hands in the air and made the background crowd noise. "Ah, and the crowd goes wild!"

Damian rolled his eyes and turned his head toward the refrigerator. Dick shot Tim a grin. He knew Damian was struggling not to smile. The kid had been loosening up so much more since Dick and Elle had moved into the manor . . . Okay, more like when Elle moved in. The kid was completely taken with her, although he tried to hide it, but it was just too obvious. He made a point over the weekend to visit a couple of times a day their wing. Dick didn't mind, though, and Elle seemed to adore him much to Tim's bafflement. The two had formed a strange bond, however.

Damian closed the refrigerator door with his own plum. Tim opened his mouth, only to make an odd choking sound when Dick kicked him in the ankle. Damian was trying. For the first time since he arrived here a year ago, the boy was trying to fit in . . . just a bit, and Dick didn't want anything to disrupt his progression.

"Come on," he told the boys. "Let's head down to the cave and see what Bruce is up to. Maybe get a little sparring in before it's time to pick Elle up at the airport."

"What about Todd?" Damian asked. "Is he coming back here, too?"

Dick shrugged. "Jason can find his own way back."

Tim snorted. "Are you jealous?"

Dick gaped at him. "Are you serious?"

His little brother met his gaze calmly.

"What's there to be jealous of Todd?" Damian snarked.

"No, I'm not jealous," Dick laughed uncomfortably. "Not really, anyway," he muttered reluctantly a few seconds later.

Tim stared, obviously not expecting Dick to actually admit to it. He thought that maybe the boy was just trying to get him on the defensive as a joke. But as Dick rolled the idea over in his mind, he found the tiniest bit of justification to the accusation.

"Not the way you're thinking, at least," he was quick to admit. "It's just that **_I_** wanted to go with her. The last time I left her, she nearly died. I don't think I've gotten over that just yet."

It was only a couple of weeks ago, after all. Dick figured he'd be feeling this way for a while longer.

"Last time, she was alone," Tim pointed out reasonably. "Don't you trust Jason? You were the one that manipulated him into accepting the duty."

They paused at the clock. Dick opened the glass cover and moved the hands until they read 10:47. There was the slightest click, and then the grandfather clock swung away soundlessly to reveal the secondary heavy metal door that was the entrance to the Batcave. The eye scan was a new feature to the security protocol. It changed every six months or so; more often if there was a breach.

That happened on occasion, although the last time had been due to Talia al Ghul's unwelcomed visitation to check on her son. Dick doubted there was much they could do if the daughter of the demon really put her mind to seeing Damian. Dick suddenly imagined her showing up during one of Damian's visits with Elle. A shudder passed through him, and he made a note to go over Bruce's plans to increase security throughout the manor.

If Elle leapt onto anyone she deemed a threat to _him_ , he didn't doubt that she wouldn't hesitate to do the same for Damian; even if that threat was his own mother. And there was no way _that_ would end well . . .

The three of them started down the steps into the cave. The light from the work station was on at the Batcomputer. Dick could see Bruce concentrating on whatever was on the screen. Bruce had heard them, but hadn't bothered acknowledging his company yet, so he wasn't looking when it happened.

They were nearly to the bottom when he felt it.

Fear . . . No! Terror struck Dick hard in the chest; almost like a physical blow. He gasped, and staggered; his normal grace gone as his legs collapsed beneath him.

"Dick!" Tim yelled.

He thought that the boys lunged for him, but suddenly a wave of vertigo crashed over him and he was falling . . . Elle was falling! He had a vision of . . . of . . . Roy? No, not Roy, but Red Arrow looking down at him with a hand outstretched as he fell away from him. The vision was gone in the next second; replaced by limestone walls and a flash of the startled expressions of Tim and Damian before he slammed into the stone steps and darkness overtook him.

* * *

Bruce was going back over the video that Dick had supplied them of Elle's attack. Nameless' face had undergone a bit of transformation over the course of the night, and he had wanted to run a facial recognition program on the man before the damage acquired had occurred.

He began shutting the images down as he heard the boys enter the cave. There was no reason Dick had to see the video again, nor did Bruce want Damian to see the attack. Not that the boy hadn't seen things just as brutal before, but he had noted the closeness developing between his youngest son and Dick's fiancée over the past couple of months.

The last thing they needed right now was for Damian to revert back to his previous training and go out hunting this guy with an eye for revenge. It had been hard enough just seeing the end result without witnessing the actual attack itself.

Tim certainly hadn't enjoyed it, but he was good at distancing himself, and looking at the footage with a clinical eye rather than an emotional one. Although Bruce hated to ask the boy's help with it, he didn't feel the compunction to hide the video from him as he did with the other two. Right now, Tim's observation skills took precedence over his discomfort, however. But in the meantime, Bruce would watch for signs of distress in the eighteen year old all the same.

He could do this alone, if necessary.

Checking the chronometer, Bruce wondered if it were time to go pick up Elle. He easily lost track of time when he was researching something. This time was no different; but he was a bit more motivated to achieve results than per usual. His son deserved happiness after all he had been through in his life. _All_ of his children did, but this was Dick's turn, and Bruce would do everything in his power to smooth the way for the young couple. He was pretty sure that's what parents did for their kids, after all.

Although Elle's presence had made an impact on the number of arguments and fights he had been forced to referee in the last few months, it still wasn't unusual to hear raised voices at any given time. Even the young woman's ability to bring peace to those around her couldn't completely stop the disagreements between two opposing personalities that his two youngest sons possessed.

They grated upon one another more often than not, but no longer was it an ongoing thing in which he or Alfred felt the constant need to provide a buffer. They could leave Tim and Damian alone in a room now without the worry of blood stains on the carpeting. Elle had told him, interestingly, her theory of how the two would grind each other's rough patches down until those places were smooth eventually. She predicted they would one day be the closest of friends.

He hadn't the heart to tell her that he had initially thought her naïve prediction was bullshit. But then, she had told him this at the beginning of December, and in the intervening weeks Bruce had to admit there had been moments when the two had seemed to rub along quite well. It was still too early to tell whether or not her prediction had merit, and Bruce preferred to prepare for the worst rather than expect the best.

So, when Tim had yelled, it hadn't been unexpected. But what he hadn't been prepared for was the name he had yelled out or the concern in the older boy's voice. This wasn't anger, but surprise and a little fear? And it wasn't the name of his younger brother, but his eldest . . . It had taken a precious second for Bruce's head to whip around; just in time to see Dick's head come into contact with the limestone steps. Tim had grabbed Dick's arm while Damian had somehow managed to get in front of him to stop his forward momentum down the rest of the steps.

Bruce jumped up and was running. "What happened?"

"We don't know," Damian told him, wide-eyed. "He just collapsed!"

"He did gasp, and he reached for the wall; like he was dizzy or something," Tim added as Bruce moved in to scoop up his eldest son.

"Damian, locate Alfred," Bruce ordered as he made his way down the rest of the steps with his burden. "Tim, I need you to get on the computer and bring up Chicago news stations. Monitor Chicago police frequencies for any incidents located in the vicinity of Hamilton Industries corporate headquarters. And contact Jason!"

Tim followed Bruce down the stairs as Damian darted back to the manor. His step hitched in surprise.

"What are you talking about? What does that have to do with Dick collapsing?"

"Just do it," Bruce barked over his shoulder.

He shouldn't have agreed to keep the bond a secret from the rest of the family. He understood Elle's hesitancy as well as Dick's need to honor her requests, but this was something they needed to know. He should have insisted upon them coming clean with the details before the couple split up to attend their different meetings two locations. Despite his assurance that the others would do everything in their power to keep the couple safe, understanding that the loss of one would mean the loss of both lives would increase the sense of urgency and perhaps make each of them more efficient when looking out for Dick and Elle individually.

He suspected there was more to this bond and to Elle's abilities than what had even been shared with him.

As Bruce laid Dick down on the gurney in the medical bay, his son nearly rolled off of the table as he regained consciousness abruptly. Bruce grabbed his shoulders as Dick jerked upright. He was panting as if he had run a four-minute mile.

" _Elle_ ," he yelled. He clutched at Bruce's arms. "She fell, Bruce! She _fell_!"

"Fell? Fell from what?" Bruce snapped. "What are you talking about?"

"I-I . . ." Dick's gaze darted around the room; searching, but for what Bruce doubted he knew. "I saw Roy! He had her, and then let her go!"

"You saw Roy? You mean Jason," Bruce told him. "Jason accompanied Elle!"

"I don't know! But I saw him . . . I saw Roy!" Dick insisted.

"Get a hold yourself. You hit your head on the step coming down to the cave," Bruce informed him calmly. "Perhaps you dreamed this."

"No . . . No, it was no dream," Dick said as he pressed one hand to his head. He looked at his palm. No blood; good. "Something happened in Chicago. I felt it. Roy was there."

Once assured that Dick wouldn't tumble off of the table, Bruce let him go and stepped back. "Since when do you have visions with this bond? I thought you could only feel her emotions when she was in danger."

"I don't know. Cedric said nothing about seeing images when he talked about the bond," Dick admitted. "It was just a flash, though. A glimpse; nothing more."

"But you're sure it came from Elle?" Bruce asked for clarification. They continued to learn more about the bond as time went on, but without Cedric or Arthur or another Siren to ask, all they could do was fumble their way through this. "Whatever you saw . . ."

"I saw Roy."

"Fine . . . You believe that you saw Roy through Elle's eyes?"

" _Gah_!" Dick dropped his head into his hands. "When you say it like that, it sounds crazy! I don't know if I was seeing what Elle was seeing. I just was body slammed with a burst of absolute terror out of the blue, and then I saw this flash of Roy's face above me as I fell. But it wasn't _me_ falling . . . It was Elle who fell."

Bruce pulled Dick's hands from his face, and spread his hair to see the area that had struck the stone step. "I have some news for you, chum. You fell, too. You're lucky Tim and Damian were right there with you, or you would have fallen down at least twenty steps. You could have broken your neck."

Bruce could feel a bump, but it didn't appear serious. Unfortunately, one could never tell how serious head injuries were right away. "This bond . . . It appears to have more negatives associated with it than positives."

Dick frowned at him, but didn't comment.

"Ah, very good, sir," Alfred's voice cut in as he and Damian entered the med bay. "You're awake. He was unconscious for how long a period, would you say, Master Bruce?"

Dick swung his legs off of the gurney. "Doesn't matter," he grumbled as he fished out his cell phone. "I'm fine. I need to contact Elle."

"I disagree, Master Dick," Alfred moved over to examine the injury where Bruce was pointing it out. "Any loss of consciousness could indicate severe repercussions. We must be vigilant. You know this."

"It was ninety seconds to two minutes. No more than that," Bruce answered.

Dick raised stricken eyes. "It rolled to voicemail." He hit another number and held the phone up to his ear impatiently.

"She was in a meeting, Dick," Bruce murmured soothingly. He hated to see him so upset.

"Jason had called to say the meeting had broken up, and they were leaving Hamilton Industries for the airport. _Damn it_! He's not picking up either. Voicemail again." Dick started to throw his phone, and then seemed to think better of it.

"Master Dick, you need to sit still for me," Alfred complained.

"It's entirely likely she forgot to turn it back on once it was over," Bruce countered logically. He spotted Tim as he came around the corner. "What have you got?"

Tim was frowning; looking confused. "I couldn't get through to Jason, but there are reports of sniper fire; a helicopter in trouble; and of a woman falling out."

" _Shit_!" Dick leapt off of the table; startling Alfred. "Sorry, Alf," he apologized. Bruce grabbed his arm in case he fainted from a sudden drop in blood pressure, but the younger man was shaking him off.

"Wait!" Bruce raised his voice. "Stop a minute and think! If she _were_ dead, don't you think you'd be having a greater reaction than a mild panic attack?"

Dick paused; glancing back at his father uncertainly. It was clear that if what he had felt and Tim had confirmed had been true, it was likely the woman was already dead. Dick had a stronger reaction to her being sedated while at the hospital.

"Are you capable of reaching out to her? Can you feel her presence in any way?"

They ignored the curious glances between Tim and Damian. Bruce watched Dick's gaze lose focus as he sought out his bondmate through their little-understood, psychic link. He frowned, but despite the negative expression, Dick seemed to gain strength from whatever he found.

"I'm not sure I understand. She is . . . alive. She's . . . I can't tell. She's too far away. I just know that she's alive, and I don't think she's in danger anymore."

Alfred nodded sagely. "Then you won't mind sitting back down on the gurney while I finish what I was doing," he muttered; taking their strange talk all in stride. Alfred knew about the bond, but not the ramifications of it.

"Reports are saying a flying woman caught the falling woman in midair and flew her away," Tim told them; finishing up his report. "Do you want to explain what that was right there?"

Bruce looked at Dick, who had returned to his previous perch. Dick winced as Alfred poked a particularly sensitive area.

"No," was all he said.

"I think _someone_ needs to start talking," Damian finally inserted bluntly. He looked at Bruce. "Father, you seem to know what's going on."

"Ask your brother," Bruce told him, and moved out of the room to check the information Tim gleaned for himself.

Damian followed him out. "My brother isn't being forthcoming."

"Then perhaps you might consider it isn't any of your business," Bruce pointed out, unhelpfully.

"If it requires that we catch him before he falls down a flight of stairs, then maybe it is our business," Tim said as he joined Damian.

Bruce rubbed the spot between his eyebrows. _Terrific_ , he thought. _They're ganging up on me._

"And I thought I told you to ask Dick," he attempted to pawn them off.

"We're asking you," Damian said. He crossed his arms.

Tim sidled up on Bruce's opposite side. "How did Dick know about the woman falling? That was Elle, wasn't it?" Tim pointed out the time of the incident on the first report to come in. "He knew about it as it was happening, Bruce!"

Someone had caught the helicopter in question on video. Bruce clicked the link. Hopefully this would either confirm or deny Dick's claims. The video was poor quality; taken with a camera phone from someone on the sidewalk below. The crazy person was more interested in being the first to post the video online than to run for safety.

The helicopter listed alarmingly to its side; muffled pops could barely be heard over the sound of traffic, but Bruce recognized them to be gunshots from a high-powered rifle.

"Did you hear that? Gunshots! Someone's shooting at the helicopter," Damian exclaimed. Even the boy knew what was happening.

The action was over so quickly that it was difficult to understand what had happened on first sight. Bruce played it again.

"I tried Roy's cell, but he's not picking up either," Dick announced as he stumbled out from the med bay, and leaned against Bruce's chair. "My God! Is that them?"

Bruce looked over his shoulder. "Are you going to live?"

"I'm fine," Dick murmured absentmindedly; his attention riveted more on the action on the screen than reassuring his father.

"Good heavens," Alfred gasped as he, too, joined them.

Bruce hit the controls and the image enlarged. He tried to clear the picture up, but the video was too poor to give them a slightly less blurry image. Maybe Tim could work his magic.

"Can you do any better?" Bruce asked Tim without looking away from the screen. He replayed the video yet again.

The eighteen year old leaned over him as he typed several more commands. The image of the helicopter grew in size and the grainy video cleared a bit more. "I'd need more time. I can record this and work on it later as well. Maybe someone will post another video from a better angle."

"How did that thing not fall out of the sky?" Dick exclaimed; gripping the back of the chair with white-knuckles.

"I don't know," Bruce murmured. And he didn't! By all accounts, the helicopter should have plummeted to the sidewalk below, but it swayed up and then back over again as whoever was piloting was struggling for control.

This time through it became obvious when the door suddenly flew open and a woman plainly fell out of the chopper. She dangled precariously a dozen stories in the air by what looked like a death grip on the door handle. She shifted slightly, and then was suddenly freefalling. They couldn't tell what had happened as they stared in helpless horror. Screams could be heard through the camera phone's microphone.

A blur flew into the picture; snatching the woman in mid-air before zooming out of the frame. The person filming tried to follow, but the victim and rescuer were already out of sight. The picture panned around, but the helicopter pilot had recovered control and disappeared over the rooftops of the surrounding buildings.

"Who was that who caught her?" Damian asked. "Did anyone recognize who it was?"

"I'm not sure," Dick whispered, but he had a sense of foreboding.

Tim had his own questions he wanted answered.. "Was that her?" He asked. Tim stared over Bruce's head at where Dick still stood. "Was that Jason and Elle?"

Dick was breathing hard, but was silent. With his son behind him, Bruce couldn't tell if Dick was being stubbornly silent or just in shock.

Instead of answering outright, Dick turned around and started back toward the steps. "That happened several minutes ago. We should head to the airport now."

"Wait up! We're coming with you," Damian shouted as he ran after him.

Bruce shoved out of the chair. "Are you coming?"

He glanced at Tim as he fiddled with the frozen frame of the woman hanging from the helicopter's door. The computer enlarged the image even more and the pixels moved and shifted as the program Bruce had installed last year made the necessary corrections. Even so, without her face, they could only guess at the woman's identity.

"Yeah, I'm coming," Tim nodded and stepped back. "I wouldn't miss it."

Bruce took one last look at the screen. Whoever the woman was, he noted, she was wearing the same outfit that Elle had worn that morning when boarding her company jet.

* * *

 **REACTIONS?**

 **You know someone would have had their cellphone out and filming this . . .**


	7. The Contingency

**Hah! I actually made my goal of publishing this chapter today by MINUTES! ;D It's been a long day for me, so forgive any errors you might find. I just wanted to post this for you while it is still today, and not tomorrow. I will do last minute editing _after_ I sleep. **

**Warning: Language . . .**

* * *

The silence in the cabin was total . . . for all of sixty seconds.

"Oh . . . **_Shit_**!" Red Arrow stood up and gaped at Starfire. "Kori . . ." he stammered for a moment. "No! You don't tell a woman that you just met that you almost married her fiancé!"

The alien woman blinked at him. She wasn't startled or annoyed, just confused.

"Did I do something wrong?" Starfire, or Kori, as the redheaded man in the mask referred to her, glanced back and forth between them.

Elle, however, was stunned. She literally couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't think, as her mind struggled to process this bit of information. A variety of emotions flickered over her face as she tried to make sense of this.

The ring she had found in Dick's sock drawer had clearly said 'Babs' and, in fact, Elle had met Barbara Gordon at Bruce's New Year's Eve party. She had been a tall, lovely redheaded woman who had once been Batgirl until that clown villain from Gotham had shot her. She was paralyzed now but Miss Gordon had made a new name for herself within the superhero community as Oracle, a kind of be-all, end-all, information hotline and computer genius. Babs had been gracious when the two of them met but there had been some strain present between them. Maybe that was all on Elle's part because Barbara Gordon had been calm, confident even, in herself despite the wheelchair that bound her. Competence radiated from her every beautiful pore.

Elle had been intimidated as hell.

Enough so that she had agreed for Bruce to announce their engagement officially to the party-goers shortly before the countdown to midnight had occurred.

Now . . . she sat there like a short, chunky, ungraceful lump as quite possibly the most beautiful woman . . . um, person . . . uh, female _alien_ she had ever seen happily announced she had very nearly married the man Elle was bonded to for the rest of her life. Elle found herself wondering if it were going to be a short life because at that moment her first impulse was to strangle Dick.

He had asked Elle to marry him, but didn't think it was important to tell her that he had been engaged to, not just one, but _two_ women prior to meeting her? Elle didn't have a lot of experience with relationships, but that didn't feel like it was a thing someone did to someone he proclaimed to love. Maybe this was how things were done? Elle didn't know, this being her first real relationship but she hoped not because she wasn't sure she could stand to live with someone who kept secrets like this from her. She supposed that compared to being Nightwing this was not considered all that big . . . At least to someone else, but to Elle this was right up there at the top of that _'Do Not Do'_ list.

Starfire . . . Kori looked somehow both powerful and terrifying as well as sweet and innocent, naïve even. Red Arrow was ranting about something, but Elle couldn't hear much past the ringing in her ears. She felt lightheaded. Her second reaction was a prickling feeling in her sinuses as her eyes filled with tears.

 _How humiliating_.

Kori was gaping at the man. "I don't understand? She asked me a question, and so I told her the truth. How can that be wrong?"

"Dick was supposed to have told her about you first," Red Arrow was telling her. "Jason said he didn't think he had done that yet." The guy looked over at Elle's dumbfounded face and dropped his head in his hand. He pointed and shook his head. "Does she _look_ like a woman who was told about this ahead of time?"

Kori looked back at Elle and tilted her head. It was so damned cute! How could she look so scary and so damned cute at the same time? It just wasn't fair!

Kori stood. Her tiny, little, armored outfit, that didn't look like it could protect her from a stiff breeze, showed off a figure that was . . . Oh yeah. Elle hated it but she was feeling intimidated all over again.

"Perhaps I should go?" Kori asked apologetically.

Red Arrow threw his hands up. "No! No, you can't go yet. Not until we get her back to Gotham. We don't know who is trying to kill her or if they might try again before we get her home. You need to stay."

It was too much. Elle stood up and pushed through to the aisle.

"You two stay," she told them. "I'm going to . . . go now."

"What?" Red Arrow exchanged a panicked glance with the alien amazon. "Wait! You can't go either. We still have to get you home."

Elle didn't look back, just waved a hand in the air. "That's exactly where I'm going," she said. "Home. Thank you for saving my life. Goodbye."

She heard them following her out but it was too close inside. She needed air. She moved down the steps only to run into Jason returning with her pilot.

"What the hell? Where do you think you're going?" Jason blocked her path.

"I'm going home. Get out of my way, Ja- Red Hood." Too many secret identities! She never knew what to call anyone.

"That's where we're taking you," he told her, turning her around.

Elle just kept turning and then sidestepped him. Jason grabbed her arm.

"Elle, get on the plane," he voice brooked no argument and out of the corner of her eye she watched him give dirty looks at the two behind her. It didn't take a genius to figure out that this had something to do with them, and he likely knew exactly what it was that upset her.

"No," she twisted her arm to get free of him hold to no avail. Jason merely tightened his grip. "Let _go_ of me!"

"Sorry. Can't do that."

He wasn't sorry. She glared at him.

"I promised to get you home safe and sound," he barked at her.

The stupid tears were back – damn it!

"Yeah, well, you're too late," she snapped. She was a long way from being sound at the moment and the last place she wanted to be at that moment was facing off with Dick, that sneaky, no-good, secret-hoarding, lying son-of-a-bitch!

He stared at her for a moment, then cursed under his breath. He didn't let her go, however, just turned his attention onto Red Arrow and Starfire.

"God damn it! You two couldn't keep your mouths shut for five minutes? Seriously! I step out of the plane for five lousy minutes and everything goes to shit!"

Elle jerked her arm. "It's not their fault! It's your brother's fault!"

"I don't doubt that one bit," Jason said, "but you're going to have to take it up with him _after_ I deliver you home."

"I'm not going back . . ."

Whatever else Elle planned to say was cut off when Jason picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. She pushed against his back in order to lift herself upright.

"Put me down! Do you hear me?" She shrieked. She no longer felt like crying anymore, she'd give him that much. " _Put me down_!"

Roger, her pilot, reached out to jerk Jason back around. "You heard her! Set her down. Now."

Red Arrow frowned. "Hey! Don't you know who we are?"

"You're kidnappers if you don't let her go," Roger snarled at them, " _Now_!"

He gripped Jason's jacket and jerked again, harder. This time, Jason turned but he whipped up his hand and pointed a pistol directly into Roger's face.

"Enough! Everybody in the plane right now," Jason roared. He stared hard at the pilot. "It's your choice. I can fly this thing as easily as you can."

Roger carefully let go of Jason's jacket. He didn't move immediately, however, but looked to Elle. The man wasn't a regular pilot. Cedric Hamilton didn't hire many " _regular_ " people. Roger Dailey was a retired Army Ranger. One hand was sliding toward his hip beneath his jacket.

Elle's eyes widened. She didn't know Jason that well. While she didn't think he would kill her pilot in cold blood, someone would likely get shot in whatever altercation that was to come. She shook her head at him. She refused to be the cause of someone being shot.

She made a hand motion behind Jason's back that meant 'phone', and mouthed 'call Hugh and Edward'.

Roger was furious. His nostrils flared and his lips went white as his mouth tightened in anger and frustration. He moved in front of them and up the steps. Jason carried Elle inside, bringing up the rear. When he set her down in front of him and turned to close the door behind him, she used her body to shield her signal to Roger, pointing to her left wrist . . .

 _Stall for time_.

He dipped his head once to acknowledge the message was received. The entire exchange took place in the space of a second. All those drills that Cedric and her bodyguards had gone over with her a million times were still proving handy. By the time, Jason turned around, Red Arrow and Starfire had moved back to their seats, and Roger had entered the cockpit.

Jason looked down at Elle where she still stood. "Get moving, sweetheart," he snapped, obviously still feeling pissy.

She glared at him. "You planning on manhandling me again if I don't?"

He leaned down into her face. "If you insist."

He reached for her but Elle hopped backward, slapping at his hands. "Why are you _doing_ this?"

"Because I gave my word I would keep you safe and deliver you back to Dickweed in one piece," he told her in no uncertain terms. "So, you can march back over there and strap yourself into your seat or I'll do it for you!"

"I don't want to go back to Gotham," Elle declared. "I've had a hard day and the last thing I want to do is deal with your womanizing brother."

* * *

Jason crossed his arms. He supposed he should try to straighten this out since it had been his choice to bring in Roy and Koriand'r. He should have checked first with Dick but how was he to know the asshole hadn't spilled his guts about his previous relationship with the Tamaranian princess. He wondered if Elle knew about Barbara, too, or if Dickhead had simply kept quiet about all the women in his past.

"To be fair, all this happened a few years ago. _Long_ before he met you," he pointed out reasonably.

The look she gave him told him plainly Elle wasn't feeling in the mood to be especially reasonable at the moment. This wasn't part of his agreement. Who was he to play marriage counselor? Yeah, they weren't married yet but the way they were going, this would make failed engagement number three.

"He should have told me," she leaned in and hissed at him.

Jason heaved out a sigh. "Yeah, you're right. He should have. And you know what? If I had told him that I was going to ask Kori to help out today, he probably would have but that didn't happen."

Her eyes got that uncomfortable sheen again and he felt like a heel despite this not being his fault . . . Okay, not _totally_ his fault. The asshole should have told her before asking Elle to marry him.

 _How did I get wrapped up in the middle of this_?

"Look, he didn't marry her and it was just as well since she was called back to her planet shortly after that for a while. As her consort, he probably would have been expected to go with her and doofus was needed here."

Elle blinked at him, her pained, angry expression making way for confusion for a time.

"Consort?" She glanced behind her at the woman in question. "What? Is she like royalty or something?"

"Or something. She's a princess and was the heir to the throne before . . ." his voice tapered off as Elle interrupted him.

"She a _princess_?" Elle hissed at him again. Without giving him a chance to answer, Elle rolled her eyes and stormed toward the back of the plane, muttering, "Well, of course, she is! Why wouldn't she be? A freaking Amazonian warrior princess! How the _hell_ do I compete with that?"

"Tamaranian," Kori corrected unhelpfully as Elle stomped past. "Donna is the Amazon."

Elle almost stumbled. She caught herself and moved toward the back a little faster.

Jason didn't start after her, however, until she passed the last of the seats and was heading toward the bedroom once more. "Elle, you need to strap in. It isn't safe to be up and about until after take-off."

"This is _my_ plane, Jason," she snarled at him over her shoulder. "I'm on it like you wanted, I'll sit wherever the hell I damn well please!"

With that she slammed the door in his face. There was a distinct sound of a lock clicking.

"I can get through this door if I have to," he called through the door.

"You do and, I promise, you will live to regret it," he heard her shout her warning through the panel.

He wasn't especially impressed by her threat until he remembered her tarantula. He shook his head. She wouldn't toss that creepy, hairy spider on him . . . At least, he didn't think she would. Not that it mattered here since it was back at the manor and not on the plane.

He finally threw up his hands, turned, and walked back to take his own seat. She was on the plane, as she had said, after all. Who cares where she chose to ride out the trip?

He had checked out the pilot enough to know he had been flying for thirty years and even had military experience. He was a trusted member of Hamilton's entourage, been with them for at least twenty years. Even angry, Dailey wouldn't risk Elle's life by pulling some stupid stunt.

He flopped down next to Roy and across from Kori.

"Okay, you want to tell me what exactly you two said that sent Elle running out of the plane?"

Roy shifted his view to the view out the window. "Not particularly."

Kori grimaced. "It is my fault, I think. She asked me how I knew Dick and I told her." Kori lifted her shoulders in a perplexed manner. "No one told me I was supposed to lie."

Jason ran a hand over his mouth, wincing. He should have thought of that, of the possibility of Elle asking an innocent question like that, and Kori giving her the simple truth. Although there really wasn't much that was simple about what had happened that prevented the wedding at the last minute. He had only heard stories since it had happened during the time he had been "dead." Jason himself hadn't been around.

"She didn't take it very well, did she?" Roy muttered, rubbing his face with both hands. He looked up at the ceiling, and groaned dramatically.

"Dick is going to be very angry, isn't he?" Kori looked at both of them, worriedly.

"Not at you, princess," Jason assured her. "If it was anyone's fault, it was Dick. He should have come clean to her before now."

Roy barked a laugh but there was no humor in it. "I'll make sure to point that out to him as he's pounding the life out of me."

Kori bit her lip and looked out the window. She frowned and tilted her head at whatever she saw.

"Is there trouble?" Jason asked, leaning forward to get to his feet.

"No! No, I was just . . . thinking," Kori waved him back down. "I think it would be better if I follow from the air."

Jason thought about it. She was probably right. If Elle came out later, it would be less awkward for everyone if Kori wasn't in sight. And if anyone tried to bring the plane down . . . Well, that seemed unlikely, but then so did the attack on the helicopter. He had expected the attack in the space between exiting the safety of the building and climbing into the helicopter. When it didn't happen, Jason had, indeed, lowered his guard slightly. That they were all still alive was because he still retained a portion of his bat-paranoia and had better than average reflexes.

"Sounds like a plan. I'll let you out and inform the pilot," Jason agreed as he rose to his feet. "I want to find out what's taking so long to get moving."

After Jason closed up the door behind Starfire, he knocked on the cockpit door. Dailey was pissed off enough that he had locked it. Jason couldn't exactly blame him. It would be a bitch if he _did_ need to get in there in a hurry, though. He could tell the entire wall that separated the cockpit from the rest of the aircraft's interior was reinforced, as was the door itself. Jason wouldn't be able to just shoot the lock or kick it in.

"What's taking so long," he yelled through the door.

"Checklist," Roger Dailey's muffled voice sounded. "Deal with it. We'll go when I'm done and the tower clears us." The man's anger was still in evidence despite the low sound quality. "Go strap yourself in and let me do my job."

Right.

The sound of the engine starting was encouragement enough. Jason made his way back to his seat. He took the chair across the aisle from Roy this time.

Roy glanced over at him, hopefully. "What's the likelihood that Dick might thank us from saving him from matrimony?"

Jason remembered watching Dickhead's proposal and then observing his adoration over his little firecracker of a fiancée at dinner this past weekend. Frankly, he wouldn't lay odds on either of them surviving this encounter. Dick could kick ass when he was pissed enough. Jason was probably still a better fighter than Nightwing, so his odds of walking away under his own steam were distinctly better than Roy's but if this truly screwed things up for the couple, Jason considered the wisdom of laying low for a while. Like maybe for the next twenty or thirty years . . .

"Is your life insurance policy premiums up to date?" He asked as he felt the plane begin to taxi around in preparation for their departure.

Roy gaped at him for a moment and then heaved a sigh.

"Well, shit."

* * *

Elle locked the door to the bedroom. Once satisfied that Jason wasn't going to force his way inside and drag her back out into the main cabin, she moved quickly to the closet that took up the back of the bedroom. She blinked at the sight of several of her father's business suits still hanging in there. No one had thought about cleaning out the closet. Glancing around the room, she realized that the drawers likely hid a myriad of Cedric's personal items.

Shaking herself, she shoved the suits aside, uncovering a hidden panel in the back wall.

Her father had insisted on the addition. When one was worth nearly five hundred million dollars, people became obsessed with finding ways to separate the man from his money. Kidnapping his daughter had only been one of the ways and none of those had been entirely successful. There were reasons why Elle's bodyguards had remained in their positions for so long . . .

Hijacking Cedric's jet was certainly another way to go. And, although no one had ever attempted it, it hadn't stopped her practically-minded parent from making contingency plans just in case. It was only the second time Elle had ever used it. The first time had been when the brand-new jet had been delivered. Cedric had shown his daughter how to use the secret route to escape should something like this happen and the opportunity arose while the plane was still on the ground.

That said, the space had parachutes stored in it, and could be sealed off from the rest of the place to prevent the rest of the aircraft from sudden decompression. The hijackers might never be aware that their victim(s) had ever left the plane until they came looking and discovered them gone.

What she was doing suddenly hit her, and Elle's mouth turned up into a fleeting grin at the look of Jason's face when he reached Gotham City and Elle was nowhere to be found. She might have enjoyed the little escapade a lot more if she just hadn't been so angry at his high-handedness. But she had been serious when she had told him she wasn't ready to confront Dick with this so soon after her most recent brush with death.

Elle slipped through into the compartment. It was cramped barely enough room to maneuver if one needed to don the parachutes. It could only hold two people at a time. She shuffled the suits back into place and resealed the panel. Entering the code and popped the door to a small safe, Elle helped herself to the emergency cash and a credit card. Then, with her thumbprint, she broke the seal on the hatch, and dropped down to the hanger floor from the belly of the plane. Elle listened to the hiss that the secret escape hatch made when sealing itself once again.

Seeing no one around, Elle took off toward the offices located near the back of the hanger for the mechanics that cared for her father's aircraft. She could wait there until Edward and Hugh arrived to pick her up. She had just reached the offices when the jet powered up and began to taxi out onto the tarmac.

She had made a successful escape right out from under one of the precious bats' noses. Anger was mitigated slightly with a feeling of triumph. Too many people tended to underestimate her.

On her own turf, Elle could be a formidable opponent.

She headed for the phone. She had a couple of calls to make. Her day was far from over and it wouldn't be long before Dick knew what stunt she had just pulled and came after her. Elle wasn't stupid. He would be arriving in Chicago within three or four hours, she had no doubt but she had things to accomplish before that could happen, things her errant fiancé wouldn't approve of.

She dialed the number from memory. She had called it before but this was the first time she had done so willingly.

"Hello? Nora? This is Bella. Is Aiden in the office? I need to speak to him . . ."

* * *

 **REACTIONS?**

 **This could be fun . . . The confrontation will be coming, but it will be on Elle's turf and on her terms. Not sure about you, but I can't wait to see what happens when the jet lands in Gotham City missing one of its passengers.**


	8. Meetings of the Mind

**You have been patient and you are being rewarded. (The title of the chapter may change if something better comes along.)**

 **Warning: Some Language . . .**

* * *

Another helicopter, one not owned by Hamilton Industries, landed in the area between the pool and the boat house. Hugh and Edward got out first and then Elle stepped out between them. One of the men had his arm around her waist and the other had an arm covering her head as they ran a safe distance from the whirling blades.

Elle pulled up. She wasn't ready to go to the house. This trip was totally unplanned and the likelihood that whoever had been shooting at her earlier had somehow managed to get through Chicago rush hour and beat her here was slender at best. The two men complained but that wasn't anything she wasn't used to. If she truly thought there could be a danger here on her family's estate, she would allow them to do their job however they saw fit. Elle wasn't stupid nor was she dangerously stubborn or egotistical. Being uncooperative could more easily get one of her bodyguards killed trying to protect her than it would to endanger her. These men had been with her nearly all her life. They were, themselves, like family . . . favorite uncles, she liked to think of them.

"Hang on," she told them. "I want to talk to her."

They knew the ' _her_ ' Elle was talking about. They had spotted her in the sky following them twenty-five minutes ago, just after they left the airport. Hugh and Edward had initially pulled their guns but Elle knew that particular bogie wasn't dangerous . . . Well, wasn't dangerous to her, anyway. She didn't really know much about the alien warrior princess except that she was beautiful, strong, could defy gravity . . . and had almost married Elle's fiancé. But, despite this, Starfire had caught Elle and taken her to her jet when she could have just as easily let her rival splatter onto the sidewalk.

Apparently, the Tamaranian princess didn't seem to hold any grudges . . .

Soon the glitter on the horizon neared enough to easily make out the shape of a woman. Starfire landed smooth as silk in front of them. Her men blinked in surprise. Their hands rested on their weapons but they didn't pull them. They eyed the heroine warily but took their cues from Elle.

 _She's taller than Edward_ , Elle thought, revising her early estimate of the alien female's height from six foot to six foot three or better. Edward, Elle knew for a fact, was six foot two inches.

"I followed to make certain you were safe," the golden-skinned woman said.

Despite herself, Elle's lips quirked up in amusement. "Saw my escape, did you? What did the boys say when you told them?"

"I did not tell them," Kori admitted with her own small smile. "You obviously did not want them to know. Jason would have only tried to stop you again and the second time he would have succeeded in doing so."

Elle gestured for the woman to walk with her to the house. No sense making the men any more anxious than necessary by standing around in the yard and making herself a target. She felt rather childlike walking beside the princess. In height, Elle came up only to her breast. And if her bodyguards thought an alien with flaming hair was odd, they chose not to comment on it. Perhaps they had heard of Starfire before but, at the moment, they were content to follow Elle's lead.

"He _might_ have," Elle conceded, "but he wouldn't have been happy about it later when I got him back."

Kori blinked those strange emerald eyes at her. "Got him back where?"

"Revenge is a dish best served cold," Elle muttered in her best 'evil' voice as she quoted the infamous Klingon proverb.

"You would have . . .?"

"Pranked the living crap out of him," she finished for her.

Kori frowned at the expression.

Hugh snorted with laughter. "No one tops Elle when it comes to pranking."

Kori looked at the smaller woman with a newfound respect. The confusion was still present but the alien got the general idea.

Edward smirked. "We've been on the wrong end of more than a few of them," he admitted.

"That last one . . ." Hugh began.

"Hey! I apologized for that! How was I to know the goats had been stolen?" Elle grumbled, still irritated at that whole fiasco. "I paid good money to borrow them for a couple of hours."

Edward barked in laughter. "The look on Hugh's face when he discovered the two beasts standing in the middle of his bed, wearing frilly pink nightgowns, and eating all of his pillows!"

Starfire's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. "What happened next?"

"Nothing!" Elle and Hugh both shouted at the same time.

Edward answered. "The owner showed up with the police. Might not have been such an issue if we hadn't been in Turkey at the time."

"Turks take goat-napping _very_ seriously," Hugh assured her.

"Papa grounded me for that prank for an entire month," Elle complained.

"After what it took to get Hugh out of jail and all three of us out of the country, you deserved a lot more than that, little girl," Edward narrowed his eyes at her, but the look was offset by the crooked smile he wore.

Hugh shook his head as he opened the French door leading into the informal family room. "Elle has banned from stepping one goat-napping foot back into the country ever since."

"So are _you_ ," she smirked.

Kori was smiling at the outlandish story, her eyes sparkling with humor. The discomfort that they experienced at her appearance had fled with the silliness of the conversation.

"That might not have happened had we been in the US," Edward noted. "The cops would have shown up, had a good laugh, and returned the goats to their owner, no harm done."

"Miss Bella," Franklin greeted them upon entry. "You've brought company. Shall I arrange for refreshments?"

It said something about the man that not a muscle or eyebrow twitched in response to the sight of a tall, skimpily-clad, alien woman entering the house unexpectedly with them. Elle always suspected there was a special British butler school where normal expressions and reactions to surprises were stripped from students before they were allowed to graduate.

"That would be greatly appreciated, Franklin. Thank you," Elle told him. Turning to her guest, she continued. "Please, have a seat. Let's talk."

Hugh and Edward murmured their goodbyes and retreated from the room. Elle knew by experience that they were heading to the room that contained the estate's security monitors and to apprise Franklin and the rest of the staff of the new heightened security measures they were bound to be implementing.

* * *

They sat down and stared at one another for several long, uncomfortable moments. All the affability of earlier had fled with Franklin and her bodyguards. Elle supposed as host, she was expected to make her guest at ease, but what the hell did they have to talk about? Were they supposed to giggle and compare notes on Dick's kissing?

That thought nearly had her bolting out of the room.

Elle was disgusted. She didn't like thinking of herself as some fainting hothouse flower. Where was her courage, her gumption? She sighed . . . It probably fell out of the helicopter with her and was, at that moment, decorating the sidewalk in downtown Chicago.

"I am sorry if what I said hurt you," Kori told her suddenly. "It was not my intent."

 _Okay_ . . . _Let's bring up the elephant in the room_.

"If you don't mind my asking," Elle said tentatively, "what happened?"

Kori bit her lip, looking amazingly enough, uncertain.

"You don't have to answer that if you don't want to," Elle added quickly. She'd be getting the story out of Dick soon enough.

"A friend of ours was taken over by . . . evil," Kori began.

Elle blinked. That wasn't what she expected to come out of her mouth.

"Raven . . . She interrupted the ceremony and killed the minister before it was complete."

That was what she had said on the jet.

"What about afterwards?" Elle asked hesitantly. "Why didn't you finish what you two started?"

For once, Kori looked uncomfortable. She turned her face away to stare out at the view of Lake Michigan beyond the grounds.

"I-It wasn't meant to be," she said softly. "Raven . . . She . . . I was possessed for a time."

Elle's mouth dropped open. "D-Does that sort of thing happen a lot?"

"You'd be amazed . . ." Kori shrugged her shoulders.

"I will admit to having reservations about the wedding beforehand as well," Kori went on to explain. "We . . . Dick and I had just broken up after a big misunderstanding, you see, and he came back from it upset. He was acting strangely and, well . . . He suddenly wanted to get married right away. At the time I accepted, I was so happy but it was so rushed and nothing seemed to be going right for either of us."

It hit Elle suddenly that this wasn't a happy story. A broken relationship never was. Is this why Dick hadn't told her? Because it was so painful? Elle's anger had been her first reaction. She ran because she couldn't face Dick while she was so upset. It would have ended with people yelling, and things being said that were meant to hurt rather than a reflection of what the person thought.

"Afterwards," Kori continued quietly, "I was not myself for a while. I didn't remember everything from before and when we finally discussed our future . . . There wasn't one anymore. I'm not sure there ever had been now that I look back on it."

"What do you mean?" Elle frowned.

Kori looked at her then, really looked. "I love Dick Grayson," she announced. "I will always love him in my heart but Dick . . ."

Kori leaned forward and set her hand over Elle's. Elle looked down at that lovely golden skin. The woman's hand completely engulfed her own, Kori's fingers even extended up her past her wrist a good distance. Warmth radiated from her palm, taking the chill from Elle's own.

"Dick never loved me," Kori told her. Elle's eyes jumped up to meet the emerald fire of the other woman's gaze. "He cared about me, I believe but love . . . No. Not the kind I wanted or deserved. Lust might be a better word for what he felt."

Against her will, Elle's eyes darted to the alien princess' figure. There wasn't much left to the imagination. When Kori leaned back onto the sofa, she was smiling mischievously.

"I think I can understand what he saw in you," Elle blurted out. Her hand slapped over her mouth a second later, a little shocked at herself. "Oh, um . . . I didn't mean it like that!"

Kori laughed, abruptly at ease once more. "Tamaranian customs and morality are a little different than those of earth. We love easily and we love hard. Sex wasn't taboo on my world. Earth is far more prudish about the subject that my people were."

"I . . . see?" And she thought maybe she did. Certainly one couldn't harbor a lot of hang-ups over sex when one spared no thought to wearing the kind of thing Kori did. Or, not wearing, as the case may be. Being partially raised by her grandparents, Elle's own sense of propriety was perhaps a bit more prim that the average twenty-three year old's.

"You aren't just telling me this to make me feel better, are you?"

Kori smiled. "Of course I am. You were obviously shocked and hurt by what I so carelessly blurted out on the jet. Jason had told me who you were beforehand as well. I still have trouble sometimes determining what is acceptable to say in public and what is not. But you shouldn't worry that Dick still harbors feelings for me."

Elle nodded.

A noise had her looking in the direction of the entryway. Franklin was pushing in a tea cart. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. How long had he been lurking out there before making that noise to announce his presence? She glanced at the clock. It had never taken him quite so long to bring refreshments before today. She couldn't find it in herself to blame the man, however. Franklin had worked for her father since Elle's birth. The man was loyal if anything and harbored a protective streak.

"Thank you, Franklin," Elle said as she stood up. "I'll take it from here."

"As you wish, Miss Bella." Franklin bowed slightly, ever the proper English butler. Alfred reminded her of him somewhat, although what Franklin might think of the Wayne family secrets, she wasn't sure she ever wanted to find out.

Kori stood up. "I should be going."

"Nonsense. You were brought in to help protect me for the day, correct?" Elle poured the tea. "How better than to have tea with me? Sugar? Cream?"

"If you are certain?"

Elle didn't know if she could be friends exactly with Dick's exes, but Koriand'r of Tamaran was hard to hold a grudge against. She'd admit to a bit of envy, standing next to the statuesque princess but for the first time Elle took solace in the mystical force that bound she and Dick together by their souls.

He loved her. Elle knew that through the bonding. What he felt was real, at least she thought it was. She had to trust what Arthur had told her once, that her half-breed voice didn't have the power to force Dick to love her. This assurance, that what they had was real, was more than most couples had.

Whether they truly wanted it or not, however, the bond ensured that she and Dick would be joined for eternity. Certainly there was a measure of security in that?

Kori accepted the tea graciously and announced, if Elle would agree, that she would keep watch over Elle and her estate until Dick could arrive. She took time to eat as Kori and Elle exchanged stories of their happier childhoods but then Kori stood up to go.

"It would be better if I took up post outside. I can watch for the approach of any enemies that way," she explained to Elle. She handed Elle a small device. "It goes in your ear," she explained. "Jason gave it to me a while back. You can contact me if you are in danger."

Elle took it. "Thank you. Are you're not cold outside?" Elle was still freezing in the Illinois winter. So different from the milder Mediterranean winters of Southern Italy.

Kori laughed. "I am a living solar battery. I do not get cold."

* * *

"Is she here?"

Franklin stepped back as Aiden pushed his way into the house. It hadn't been but a few short weeks since he had last been here; the night his father had passed away. He looked around the foyer and into the two rooms that opened off of it, searching for signs of change. It was probably too early for that but he didn't expect Bella to leave everything the way it was. Eventually, she would be putting her mark on the place now that it was hers alone.

"She is," Franklin answered stiffly.

The butler was holding grudges it would seem. He tossed his coat to the man.

"Hang that up," Aiden ordered. The man was no longer considered his employee but he was still a servant. "Then go get Bella. Keep in mind, _she_ invited _me_ here."

"Indeed," Franklin sniffed, holding the coat out like a smelly bag of garbage. "Under protest, I can assure you."

Aiden did a double take. The older man had never spoken in such a disrespectful tone of voice to him before. His lip curled. The amount of contempt the butler must have held for him through the years was surely enormous.

Aiden wandered into the sitting room as Franklin left to retrieve his half-sister from wherever she was hiding. He moved to the bar and poured himself a drink, wondering at the gall that had possessed her to call _him_ of all people. He had been tempted to refuse her call and, later, to refuse her request but his damned curiosity had gotten the better of him.

Little Bella had grown up and apparently had grown some claws.

"Good. You're here."

Now those were words he had never expected to hear come from her. Aiden turned around, his lips twitching at the sight of Bella's ever ready bodyguards. The two men flanked her, positioning themselves on either side of the entry. But someone was missing . . .

"Where is your husband, Bella? I thought the two of you were joined at the hip," he remarked, unaware still that the marriage had been a hoax.

"Unavoidably detained," she told him briskly.

Did he detect a bit of trouble brewing? She didn't seem nearly so enamored of the man as she had the last time he had spoken to her.

"Would you like to follow me into the study?" She turned without awaiting his reply and walked out.

He supposed it was better than doing whatever business she had planned out on the front porch. Aiden topped off his glass with his father's best bourbon before heading after her. He had a feeling he might be needing it before this little impromptu meeting was over. He lifted his glass in a salute to Edward and Hugh as they waited to escort him.

Either they were treating him like a royal guest or, and this was far more likely, like a common criminal.

"I do remember the way, you know," he told them lightly. "Or do you suspect that I might attempt to make off with the silver?"

"You're here under protest," Hugh informed him.

"Ah, yes, so I heard," Aiden admitted mildly.

"Just get this over with as quickly as possible and be on your way," Edward told him as he held the door open.

Aiden entered, frowning. It looked exactly the same. Bella was using it but the office looked exactly as it had when Cedric Hamilton had sat behind the desk. It annoyed the hell out of him to see her sitting in his father's chair.

She nodded to the seat in front of the desk like he was some recalcitrant child being called onto the carpet for some prank. But then she had surprised him.

"Hugh? Edward? Please close the door on your way out," Bella said softly.

Aiden slid into his chair, his curiosity renewed. She wished to discuss something out of her bodyguards' hearing? Something that they would not approve of, perhaps?

"Miss Bella," Edward spoke with formality. "I would prefer if one of us remains in the room with you."

He was doing it for Aiden only because her guards had long forgotten their role as employees many years past. Aiden also knew that Bella encouraged it and he had to admit that both men were incredibly loyal and more than willing to take a bullet for their charge. In fact, if he remembered correctly, both of them had at one time or another done exactly that.

"Please close the door behind you on your way out, Edward. Thank you," she repeated patiently but firmly.

"Under protest," Edward said, closing the door with a soft 'snik'.

Aiden looked at his sister. "There seems to be a lot of that going around lately."

She frowned at him. "And what is that?"

"Protests," he rumbled, suddenly amused. He sipped his drink and relaxed back in his chair. "Let me guess. You wish me to drop the suit against you."

Bella lifted an eyebrow and pursed her lips. "While that would be appreciated and most convenient," she remarked, "it is not the reason I asked you to come here today."

It was his turn to lift his eyebrows in question. "I'll admit, now you have me rather intrigued."

"You admitted to me once that you were not behind the attempts on mine and Dick's lives. Is that still your story?" She met his gaze.

Aiden frowned and shifted slightly in his chair. Not from nerves, however but from concern. He had not lied to her about his intentions. He wanted his inheritance but he knew as well as she did that, if Bella died, whatever their father had foolishly left her would go to her husband, the cop, or to Wayne in Gotham. He'd rather eat ground glass than to see his father's company turned into a subsidiary of Wayne Enterprises.

"You know it is." Where was she going with this? "What's this all about?"

"It's about getting what we want and what I want is be left in peace," she snapped.

Ah, the stress was leaking out.

"How many times must I tell you that I'm not behind the attempt on your lives?" Being accused of something he didn't do was beginning to grate on his nerves.

"But you know how to go about it, don't you?" Elle leaned forward, her elbows on the desk between them as her gaze grew in intensity. "Even if you aren't involved in the plot against me, you have the connections for this kind of thing."

Aiden set his glass down and leaned back in his chair. He wasn't sure what was going on behind all that hair but he was fairly certain he wouldn't like it. "What are you accusing me of, Bella?"

The intensity was gone, just like that. His sister leaned back in her on chair and steepled her fingers, much like their father had been fond of doing.

"I'm not accusing you of anything," she told him in a conversational tone of voice. "I asked you here to make a deal. But I need to know if you are even capable of handling your side of it, otherwise this whole thing seems rather pointless."

"What kind of deal?" She had drawn him into her web with expert skill. He was hooked but would he remain that way.

"I still own controlling shares to seven companies that fall under the Hamilton Industries umbrella. I'm willing to sign over my shares to three of them. That would be four for each of us. Could you live with that?"

It took a second to stop reeling at the bomb Bella had just dropped on him. "I could just wait for the competency hearing and get them all."

Bella snorted. "Pfft," she waved a hand dismissively in the air. "Nothing is going to come of that hearing. I have an iron clad defense and you have burden of proof. And whatever you're paying to have stories made up about my 'instability' I can easily double or triple the amount. If I am cleared, which I guarantee you that I will be, you will walk away with nothing . . . except a reputation for ruthlessness that could scare away any future prospective business deals." She smiled. "What say you, Aiden? I know you don't rest on your laurels. How many deals do you already have in the works, hm?"

"So you don't just sit around all day singing pretty songs," he mused.

"I have a master's in business, the same as you do," she replied.

He was beginning to see what Cedric saw in her. Her voice didn't work on him; he was immune and yet she retained a control of this meeting between them easily. He was finished underestimating his witchy little sister. He decided to take the bait to see where it led.

"Just like that? What do I have to do for this generosity in return? Kill the president?"

"It _isn't_ generosity," Bella corrected. "You know, Aiden . . . You **_know_** I **_never_** wanted this. You've been present for enough mealtime discussions to know Papa was railroading me into his world. I will do my duty and see to it what is left to me profits and prospers but not at the expense of sacrificing my own dreams. And right now, those dreams are being threatened by someone wanting to kill me . . . Hell, not just me! They're after Dick, too."

"There's been another attempt? They must be getting shoddy," he remarked. "You're still here."

"Yes, although barely. You, however, should be counting your lucky stars for that," Bella shoved back from the desk and stood. "This opportunity? It all ends if I do. You'd get what you were given and good riddance to you. But I'm offering you half of the company for your assistance. It's a sweet deal, Aiden. You really should take it."

He sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, Bella was right. She had proven herself to be as clever as he was. They appeared to be matched. If at some point he could swallow his hatred of her to sit down across a chessboard, Aiden was curious about the outcome. He had once been so positive of the superiority of his mental acumen, only now . . .

"Spell it out for me, then," he said, reaching for his glass. He needed a little fortification to get through this, he expected.

"Use your connections," she said. "Find out who's doing this and _stop_ it."

He blinked. "It isn't exactly that simple."

"Then find the men that made the contract and make them a better deal," she snapped.

"And you'll sign over three of Father's companies to me . . . when?" He asked. "I have no control over how many people want to do you in, Bella. You understand?"

"It is the same person behind it," Bella told him, dryly. "I'm sure of it. But this last time wasn't the same hitman. The first guy isn't in any condition to come after me. I've thought about it and ,I suspect, perhaps that someone simply took over the original contract or else the first guy hired someone to complete it for him."

"There is a level of secrecy involved in this," he reminded her. "It's not something I can just pick up the phone and take care of."

"Then you better get started," she told him.

"What about proof?"

"Proof _would_ be pleasant," she agreed.

"Hm," he grunted, and stood up to face her. "You think this will square us? That when this is over that I won't still hate your guts with every fiber of my being?"

"Frankly, Aiden, I could care less. When this is over, you and I are through with each as far as I'm concerned. You go your way, I'll go mine."

"And never the twain shall meet?" He rumbled, almost good-naturedly.

"If we are at all lucky," Bella agreed. "I am perfectly fine living in a world where I no longer have to share holidays and company picnics with you."

He snorted and reached for the door handle. "It's a start," he murmured.

* * *

Hugh and Edward were standing just outside of the door, waiting to see the man to his car and watch him exit the estate.

Edward glanced at her, searching for a sign of fear or upset. When he found none, he asked her. "How did it go?"

"Surprisingly well, all considering," she whispered back.

She still didn't trust the man. Her brother's hatred had flourished for longer than she had been alive, transferring from her mother onto her at Elle's birth. It wouldn't just go away. But, like Aiden, she spoke the truth. She didn't care if he hated her as long as he stayed away from her and left her alone. Perhaps this deal would soothe him enough that there could be some measure of peace . . . At least for a while.

Right now, it was the best that she could hope for.

He smiled and moved to catch up to Hugh and Aiden Hamilton.

Elle's lips quirked. "Surprisingly well."

Sighing, Elle turned. She had another meeting to prepare for and, she checked her watch, barely a half an hour left to do it in. Dick was going to be so pissed . . .

* * *

 **REACTIONS?**

 **Elle is tired of reacting to the things around her. A glimpse into a heretofore seldom seen facet of her personality. If she isn't strong, thank God she is smart.**

 **The next chapter, the Hamilton jet will be arriving in Gotham . . . Let's check in with the other half, shall we? ;D**

 **In my "Collection 2: What The Hell Was I Thinking?", you will find deleted scenes and excerpts from "Last Chance" and even one from this story, "Second Chances" posted. "The Exterminator" is an amusing bit that I just couldn't find a place for amidst all the drama and excitement happening here. So, feel free to check it out.**


	9. Round Trip

**Warning: Strong Language . . .**

* * *

As the Hamilton jet taxied across the tarmac toward the hangar that housed the Wayne Enterprises jet, its welcoming committee moved forward to greet it. The silver Range Rover Discovery was parked along one side of the sizeable structure. The shadow of the Batmobile lay across the rear entrance.

"Dick, slow down," Bruce told him as he laid a hand across the younger man's shoulders. "Let the pilot stop the plane first."

Dick was scowling and shaking his head. His eyes were intent upon the plane as he shook off his father's grip.

"Something's not right," he blurted to anyone close enough to hear him over the jet's whine. "Something's wrong!"

Bruce frowned at him, but didn't contradict him. He followed his eldest son as he physically tracked the jet's progress.

He spoke into his watch. "Red Robin, report."

Red Robin answered from his perch on the neighboring hangar. "Nothing so far," he replied. "Everything is clear out here."

Tim and Damian had tagged along in costume, taking the Batmobile. Batman and Nightwing's costume were stored in the trunk in case there was need of a quick change. Damian sat in the vehicle, using the equipment to scan the hangar and surrounding area for out of place heat signatures.

"Every heat signature is accounted for, father," Robin reported as he checked in next.

"I'm Mr. Wayne to you at the moment, Robin," Bruce reminded the boy.

"Check. Sorry, Mr. Wayne. Won't happen again," Robin corrected as he emerged from the heavily armored vehicle.

The boy moved quickly to join his father and brother as Red Robin swooped down in the hangar's front entrance using his magnetic grapple gun. The four converged on the jet just as the door opened and the steps were lowered. Jason stood in the doorway. He exited and moved to intercept.

"Don't ask me to babysit again," had been about to leave his mouth. What emerged, however, was something more akin to, "Don't ask – _Hrrk_ ,"when Dick's fist connect with Jason's jaw.

Taken off guard, Jason stumbled to the side, barely catching himself. Dick hand grabbed his leather jacket and pulled him back to his feet. His fist slammed into the side of his face a second time before Jason could retaliate. The younger of the two men rolled with the punch, flipping Dick across his shoulder and onto the hard concrete floor.

"What the hell!" Jason growled as Dick suddenly twisted about and swept him off of his feet. He grunted with the impact. " _Ngh_! What the fuck is wrong with you!"

Dick rolled on top of him, and jerked him up. " ** _Where_** **is** ** _she_**?"

Jason landed a punch to Dick's jaw as he lifted one of his legs across the other's torso and flung him back. The acrobat was too flexible to be held in such a manner, and slithered out even before he hit the floor again. As soon as Dick had flipped onto his feet, Bruce and Roy were there to drag him back. Jason climbed to his feet, warily; one hand wiping the blood from his chin.

" _Where **is**_ _she_?" Dick growled as he tugged against the hold on him. "You promised you'd keep her safe!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Jason frowned at him and waved an arm in the direction of the jet. " _She's on the plane_! She locked herself in the back compartment in a tiff before takeoff."

"She's **_not_ ** on the fucking plane, Jason," Dick snarled. He turned his head and jerked free the moment he saw Roy next to him.

" _And You_! You son of bitch," Dick roared and connected with Roy's face with a mean right hook. "You _dropped_ her! You fucking let her go!"

Bruce yank Dick back; holding him in a full-nelson. "Dick, stop," he demanded. "Get ahold of yourself!"

"Get off me," Dick yelled at him.

Bruce tightened his hold. "Not until you calm down! You'll not get the answers you want like this."

Dick jerked once more. He was tempted to throw Bruce off. They both knew he could do it now. He wasn't a kid anymore and his flexibility lent him the means to get out of nearly any hold Bruce could use on him. But his words penetrated the angry, panicked fog clouding his brain at the moment. He forced himself to take a breath and then another.

When he gave a stiff nod, Bruce cautiously released him. As Bruce stepped back, Roy caught Jason before he could tackle his brother.

"Back off, Roy," Jason shoved the redhead off of him. He shoved a finger at Dick. "You asshole! I do you a favor and this is the thanks I get?"

Dick's nostrils flared, but he held himself in check. "She's _not_ on the plane, you bastard! I can't believe I trusted you with her. I must have been out of my mind. She's not on the fucking plane and you didn't even know it!"

Jason gawked at him. "You're full of shit! I carried her onto that plane myself. No one exited until we got here."

Roy blinked. "That's not exactly true."

He met Jason's gaze. Kori had exited the plane right before takeoff. Dick still didn't know about Starfire's involvement. They both glanced toward the skies beyond the hangar door but Kori didn't appear. What did that mean?

"You _carried_ her? Why did you have to carry her? Was she hurt?" Dick stepped forward, ignoring the anger on his brother's face.

"No, she wasn't hurt," Jason snapped. "She didn't want to get on the fucking jet when I told her to. So, I flung her over my shoulder and carried her ass on. She was pissed off, and took off toward the back of the plane." He shrugged his shoulders and straightened his jacket. "She was on the plane. What the fuck did I care where she chose to sit for the trip."

Dick eyed the jet where it sat. "She's not on the plane, Jason. She must have slipped by you when you weren't paying attention."

"The hell you say! No one slipped past me," Jason glared at the plane as well. He just wanted to go home and have a beer. To hell with his so-called brother and his little wildcat of a fiancée. "She's just pouting. Go to the back, bang on the goddamn door, and get her."

Dick frowned at the two of them. "Why would she be pouting? Could it have anything to do with Roy dropping her?" He took a step in Roy's direction. "What are you doing here, anyway, Harper? Just happened to be slumming it up in Chicago?"

Roy back up a step. He didn't want to get caught up in what he knew was going to be a big blowup once Dick learned all the details of their little near-death experience.

Jason laid a hand on Dick's shoulder. "He's here because I _asked_ him to be. Look, I don't know Chicago. I thought it would be prudent to have a little backup in case things went south. And it's fucking lucky that I did."

Bruce laid a hand on Dick's other shoulder, not to restrain him so much as to remind him that he wouldn't get his answers at the end of his fists.

"We know about the sniper," Bruce told them. "Tim found the news report after the fact. There was a little footage caught on someone's cellphone but the video quality was poor."

Jason dropped his arm. "So, you saw what happened then. It was something of a miracle that I was able to land that thing on the roof of that building."

Just because Dick wasn't attacking at the moment, didn't mean that he wasn't on edge. He glared at Roy.

"Why the hell did you drop her? What the _fuck_ were you thinking, Harper?"

"Dick . . ." Bruce murmured a warning.

Roy exchanged glances with Jason. "Someone was shooting at us. They had already shot and killed the pilot. Bullets were pinging and ricocheting all around us. Pulling her back into a helicopter that was seconds away from crashing into a building and exploding in the street below was too dangerous."

Dick gaped at him; torn between his anger, his worry, and his incredulity.

"It was part of the plan," Roy blurted. "If things got too heated, we were to get Arabella out of the way."

"Did anyone happened to think about telling her this so-called plan?" Dick snapped. "She was terrified!"

Jason stiffened. "What? How do you know that? Did she call you from the jet?"

"It wouldn't take a genius to figure out that Elle would be scared. And, by the way, she's not on the jet," Red Robin announced as he joined them with Robin.

"What are you talking about?" Jason growled. "Did she slip out while Dickhead was going psycho on our asses?"

"No," Tim told him. "Robin and I went straight to the jet to locate her and get her to the safety of the car as per _our_ plan. She wasn't there."

Jason gaped. "What the fuck . . ."

"He's not lying, Todd," Damian inserted. "We searched the entire plane. Elle wasn't on board."

"And according to the pilot, she never was," Tim continued. "She exited the plane right before takeoff . . . without your knowledge."

"How the hell . . .?" Jason stared beyond them at the plane in question.

Dick whirled on Jason again. "Why would she do that, Jason? Why would she run? Especially after an attempt on her life! What happened that made her run away from you?"

Jason gritted his teeth. "She wasn't running from _me_ , Romeo! She was running from **_you_**!"

Dick blinked in surprise. "What? But . . . Why would you say that?"

"Tell him, Jason," Roy spoke up. "He's going to find out sooner or later."

"Shut up, Harper! Don't make me shoot you," Jason growled.

"Stop! No more bullshitting, no more beating around the bush," Dick snapped. "Just tell me what happened!"

"I, for one, would appreciate less drama and more facts as well," Bruce agreed.

Jason sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Someone shot the pilot shortly after we took off from the helipad atop Hamilton Industries. I didn't know that Elle gets motion sick when flying backwards. She had just unbuckled with the intention of switching seats so that she was facing forward when it happened. The helicopter veered suddenly and I had to move quickly before the helicopter hit one of the buildings," he muttered.

Roy took over the story from here since Dick was more interested in what had happened to Elle than anything else. "Elle was thrown off balance and grabbed the door for support but she must have grabbed the handle because the door flew open and she fell out of the helicopter. She was still holding on, though," he added quickly.

Dick narrowed his eyes at the archer. "And what were you doing throughout all of this, Harper?"

"I was taking off my own seatbelt. I shot an arrow into the door on my side for support and lowered myself over to her. I was trying to get her to take my hand. But you need to understand, the sniper was still shooting at us this whole time. Elle was exposed where she was, but pulling her back onto the chopper wouldn't have been any safer for her!" Roy held out his hands.

"And you thought that dropping her from a hundred and twenty feet above the sidewalk _was_?" Dick growled. "Who caught her? She's not dead. I'd know it if she was."

Roy back up another step. He'd let Jason take over from here.

* * *

Jason stared at Dick with narrowed eyes. Weird things were going on with these two. Bruce was in on it, obviously, but the Replacement and the Demon Child appeared to be just as clueless as he was. Damian kept glancing back and forth between everyone, but Drake's attention rested solely on Dick.

"Starfire caught her," Jason said bluntly. "It was all apart of the plan. She was to remain hidden and if we went under fire, she was supposed to locate the assassin but, if the danger to Elle was too great, she was to grab her and get her out of there."

Dick-for-brain's eyes widened as his mouth dropped open.

Yeah, Jason figured as much. "Before Kori could zero in on the target, Elle fell out of the helicopter. Roy caught her but with all the bullets flying around, it seemed a good idea for Roy to drop Elle for extraction."

Dick held up a hand. "Wait! Are you _nuts_? What if Kori hadn't realized you had dropped her?"

"Chill out, Dickhead! She knew, okay? That part went without a hitch," Jason was quick to say. He didn't feel like getting into it again with 'Wingnut' at the moment. "Kori flew her out of there and brought her to the jet, just like she was supposed to."

"And the assassin? Were you able to identify him?" Bruce asked. If they had a name, they had a chance of tracking him down.

Jason looked away. "Nah, the bastard hightailed it out of there once his target had been removed from the scene. He got away during the time it took me to land the helicopter. We found the apartment he had confiscated but found nothing to indicate who he might have been."

"Nothing? They always leave something behind," Red Robin remarked.

Jason glared at him. "Look, maybe we missed something. I'll give you the address and let you go over it with a pair of tweezers and a magnifying glass all you want. We were limited on time. We didn't know for sure if anyone would be waiting for us at the airport so we hauled ass back to the jet."

"That might be a good idea," Bruce interrupted. "Red Robin, Robin, and I can head to the apartment when we arrive in Chicago," he told Tim. "The rest of you will search out Elle."

Dick nodded. "She'd go home."

Jason looked back and forth between them. "Well, good luck with that. We're out of here."

Bruce pinned him with a glare. "Why don't you join us until we know Elle is safe?"

Jason heaved a sigh. "Do you really need me to hold your hand through this?"

"You haven't completed your end of the deal yet," Dick pointed out angrily. "You were supposed to deliver Elle back to me safe and sound."

"Yeah, well, she didn't want to see you, dumbass," Jason snapped. "Maybe had you been up front with her about all your past failed engagements, it might not have been an issue today."

Dick frowned. "How would she know Kori and I had anything going on between us?"

Roy rubbed the back of his neck, sheepishly. "Maybe because when she asked Kori how she knew you, Kori might have told her the truth?"

Dick paled enough that Bruce set a hand beneath his elbow.

"S-She told . . . Why didn't you _stop_ her?"

"The better question would be why didn't you give her a heads up, douchebag?" Jason asked him. "Did you tell her about Babs or are you saving that surprise for another day?"

"S-She knows about Babs," he murmured quietly. Dick shook his head and turned around. "We need to go. We don't know if this guy will follow her back to the house. It makes sense that she would go there if she didn't come back to Gotham. I know that if I were this guy, I'd be checking it out while I was still in the area."

Roy looked over to Jason as the rest of the Bat clan headed off in different directions. "What do you want me to do?"

"You're free to take off if you like. I'm going to head back to Chicago, apparently."

"Where do you think that Kori went?" Roy asked, pushing his baseball cap further back onto his head.

Jason rolled his eyes. "Considering she exited the plane right on Elle's heels, I'd say she probably followed Elle from afar."

"You're not worried, then?" Roy watched as Dick and Bruce headed off to make the arrangements for the return flight.

Jason shook his head. "Nah. Despite everything, Kori won't let anything happen to her. She cares for Dickweed too much still and letting his newest fiancée to get killed might upset him."

"Overall, I'd have to say, I think this went a lot better than I thought it would," Roy murmured.

Frowning, Jason glanced over at him. "How's that?"

"Personally, I thought he would kill you," Harper smirked.

"As if he could," Jason snorted derisively.

"Did you _see_ his face? If something had happened to her, I certainly wouldn't put it past him. Dick's usually pretty mellow most of the time. It lulls you into a false sense of security. It makes you forget the guy's got a temper."

"Welcome to my world," Jason laughed.

"You don't know," Roy told him. "You were a kid when you were Robin and then later, you know, after . . . You weren't around to see him. And now, it's not exactly as if you guys hang out together."

Roy had his attention now. "Oh yeah? Dickiebird's got a big bad temper, eh?" Jason grinned. "I've seen his temper. It's not all what you're making it out to be."

"Maybe you heard that Joker spent more than six months in traction after he . . . well, you know," Roy shrugged. "Do you think Batman did that to him?"

Jason scowled. Talking about what Joker had done to him always ruined his mood.

"Batman never got the opportunity." It was Roy's turn to laugh. "Oh no, you've _never_ seen Dick's temper."

Jason scoffed. That didn't sound like _Golden Boy_. "And you know this how? Seriously, the 'Wing' and I've gotten into it numerous times." Jason snorted.

"But then, _you're_ still walking around on your own two legs, aren't you?" Roy smirked. "You have _no_ idea, man. You have to think bigger . . ."

"Bigger?"

Bigger," Roy assured him. "Like, nuclear . . ." He started off after the rest of the group. "I think I'll hitch a ride back and pick up Kori. Chicago's got a reputation for its pizza and I have a sudden hankering."

Jason was thoughtful as he watched the redhead amble off.

 _Nuclear, huh_? His curiosity sparked, he wondered if maybe he might have been underestimating Dickhead all this time.

* * *

The rental car paused at the gate to the Hamilton estate. Dick punched in the code Elle had given him last time, seriously hoping she hadn't changed it. Jason rode in the passenger seat next to him, with Roy in the back. Bruce had changed and taken the boys with him to the apartment to see what clues the place might still yield. They would meet up with them here later, hopefully with some idea of whom they were dealing with.

The only thing Dick was certain of, at this point, was that whoever had taken shots at Elle today hadn't been Nameless. The assassin had obviously brought in help. Bruce and the boys were to meet them here when they were finished.

Dick took it as a good sign when the gate opened on the first try. He had expected to have to hike in.

"At least she didn't lock me out," he muttered.

"Think she's home?" Roy asked from the backseat.

"Oh, she's home alright," Dick assured him. Surprisingly enough, he could.

The bond was strengthening. Just like that flash he had received through her eyes during her greatest moment of fear, Dick could sense her presence and her emotions, despite still being a mile out from the house itself. She had to know he was here already.

Wasn't it only last month that their awareness of one another had been limited to roughly the area found within her apartment? Part of him wondered if the increase in awareness was due to the sustained danger they had been placed in. Could the changes be directly related to that? He didn't know yet but it was a question for Arthur the next chance he got to speak with the Atlantian king.

Dick felt more than saw Jason's eyes narrowing on him. He knew it was because of the crazy things he'd been saying lately as well, like, how he knew ahead of time that Roy had dropped Elle. And, of course, Dick prior knowledge that Elle hadn't been aboard the plane when neither Jason nor Roy had been aware of that little fact.

He wouldn't be able to put them off much longer. And then there was Tim's questions that he had so far left unanswered. He'd need to talk to Elle about this. He knew she wanted to maintain the illusion that she was just a normal ordinary woman but it was becoming important that, at the very least, his family should be let in on the secret.

He snorted silently. It wasn't as if his family wasn't adept at keeping secrets, after all. They'd have no trouble keeping hers.

* * *

"He's here," Elle yelped, jumping up from the desk.

Edward had been standing near the window overlooking the lake. He turned at her announcement. "I'll never get used to that."

Elle was closing up files and stuffing them in the cabinet behind her. "Used to what?" she asked, absentmindedly.

"That thing . . . The bond, or whatever you call it. Your parents would do it all the time," he said. "Never failed to creep me out."

Hugh stood up from where he had been sitting in a chair near the door. "I never had to experience it. Hired too late, I guess."

Edward looked at him. "You don't think this psychic link is a little weird?"

"I suppose," Hugh shrugged his shoulders, "but on a positive note, it _is_ pretty convenient."

Edward rolled his eyes and returned to the window.

"I'm not ready for this," Elle blurted as she finished locking the cabinet behind her.

"I thought you said you _were_ ready," Hugh remarked.

"I changed my mind," she snapped as she moved out of the office and headed for her bedroom.

Her bodyguards followed her out.

"Are you kidding me? You just spent part of the afternoon facing down your brother and now that your fiancé shows up, you are going to hide," Hugh called out after her.

Elle stopped and glared over the bannister at him. "That was different! I have no emotional investment in Aiden, for God's sake!"

"I beg to differ, missy," Edward snorted. "I've seen you hide under the bed and in closets to avoid Aiden."

"I was five," she groused.

Edward crossed his arms and stared.

"Oh, alright then. I was ten," she capitulated.

Hugh snorted this time. "You were fourteen the last time it happened."

Elle glared. "I _was_ not!"

He just raised an eyebrow. "I found you in the linen closet on the third floor."

"Ugh! Not the point," she snapped. "Why am I even arguing this with you? You work for me now. You are supposed to agree with everything I say!"

Edward laughed at her and headed for the front door. He knew how this bond was supposed to work. Grayson should be pulling up to the door right about now.

"We're supposed to protect your ass. We're not yes men," he reminded her. "My memory works just fine."

Elle stuck her tongue out at him, pouting. "I ought to dock your pay."

" ** _I_** ought to turn you over my knee," Hugh retorted easily.

She ' _eeped_ '. "You wouldn't dare! I'm a woman grown!"

Hugh smiled. "Then you might start acting like one and not the skittish little girl you haven't been for a decade."

Elle glared. "I could fire you, you know" she grumbled beneath her breath.

Hugh still heard her and laughed in her face. They had long grown past the normal employer/employee relationship. He knew she made ridiculous statements when she was nervous and upset. In fact, it was how he and Edward knew they had graduated to family in Bella's eyes. She would never act this way in front of what she considered to be the ' _help_ '.

* * *

Franklin shared a smirk with Edward as he opened the door. The house was so much more lively when Miss Bella was home. It was a shame that evil tidings were what brought her here this time. He and Edward stepped out to greet the other side of the bond.

Dick bounded around the car as the other two men exited more slowly. Edward raised a brow at the strange guests.

"Mr. Grayson," he greeted. "I didn't realize you were bringing others with you."

Dick, luckily, recognized the tone of voice and paused at the top of the steps to point. "The leather jacket is my brother. The idiot in the back is our friend," he muttered before brushing by him. "They're good."

The leather jacket grunted as he topped the steps next. "Jason," he pointed a thumb back at himself. "The idiot behind me is Roy," he nodded in the redhead's direction.

"Hey!" Roy complained but didn't appear offended in the least. He paused to whistle. "Nice place you got here, Jeeves."

"Family or not," Edward stated, barring Jason's way with a burly arm. "Weapons are checked at the door until further notice." He looked at Roy. "That includes bows and arrows."

Jason glared at him. "I don't go anywhere unarmed."

Roy took off his quiver and bow. "He really doesn't."

Before Edward could remark, the alien called Starfire landed behind them.

"Jason, Roy," she said. "I wasn't sure you would be coming back or not."

Jason swung around, irritated. "You might have said something to us before taking off, Kori. Neither of us had a clue she wasn't on board with us!"

The alien woman blinked emerald eyes at him but didn't appear upset by his gruffness. "You would have gone after her and brought her back on board had I done that."

"You're damn right I would have," he snapped at her.

"And that is why I didn't tell you," she said calmly. She stepped past Edward and walked into the house.

Roy paused in handing over his bow and quiver to the butler. "Hey! How come she gets to go in? Starfire's a walking weapon."

"Miss Bella invited her in earlier," Edward told him without taking his eyes off of the one called Jason. "And she's been assisting in protecting both her and the estate."

"That's why _I'm_ here," Jason gritted out. "My brother asked me to watch over her today and I'm the one who brought in Starfire and Red Arrow."

"Red Arrow . . . That's this other one?" Edward tilted his head in Roy's direction.

"At your service," Roy grinned and held out his hand. Edward ignored it. "But I'll admit I'm a lot more effective with my bow than I am without it."

"Until I clear it with Miss Bella, your weapons will be kept safe for you," Edward insisted. "Or you can choose to kick up your heels out here . . . It's warmer in the house, however."

"Right," Roy shrugged, and brushed by the butler. "Don't lose those, Jeeves. I'll be needing them later."

"Indeed not." Franklin held the bow, the quiver hung by its strap over his forearm as he moved into the foyer to deposit the young man's accoutrements in a safe place.

"So, what's your decision?"

Jason wasn't sure what kind of reception he would get if he ticked off the help. He handed Edward two of his guns, choosing to keep the one strapped to his ankle above his boot hidden.

Edward didn't move. His eyebrow rose. "I believe I said _all_ of your weapons."

"That is all of my weapons," Jason insisted with his best poker face.

"I've been doing this longer than you've been alive," he told him.

Jason glared, but to no effect. After a minute, he bent over and pulled the smaller pistol from his holster. "Just for clarity sake," he remarked, "this pea-shooter is just a toy."

"Be that as it may, Jason, is it? This is my job. Bella could die if I made a mistake. As her bondmate's brother, I would think you'd be motivated to see that doesn't happen either." Edward frowned at him.

Jason blinked but kept quiet. It was obvious that the bodyguard seemed to be more informed than he was about the weirdness going on. He nodded and handed him his third gun. Perhaps if he just kept his mouth shut and his eyes and ears open, he might figure out what it is that Dickiebird was hiding.

As Edward stepped out of the way to allow Jason to move inside, they heard a loud, sharp crack. It was not gunfire, fortunately. They exchanged glances even as they rushed into the house.

* * *

 **REACTIONS?**

 **Man, I tried to work in the confrontation between Dick and Elle in this one but, honestly, it works better starting off the next chapter with it. This allowed for some build up and some small bit of backstory.**

 **If said "history" is a little different than you remember it in the comics, that's okay. This is its own AU. Certain things had to happen certain ways if we hope for a future reconciliation between all the members of the Bat Fam. There cannot be things in the past that are considered too far over the line and thus unforgiveable.**


	10. Confrontation

**Finally . . .**

 **Warning: Language . . . (Watch for occasional POV changes)**

* * *

Elle was still glaring down at Hugh when Dick shoved his way through the door. If looks could kill, she would have herself a pile of ashes, and be down one bodyguard.

"You did that on purpose," she hissed at him over the railing.

"Maybe," he admitted; shrugging a shoulder.

"Elle," Dick called out to her as soon as he saw her.

She could run, or she could just do this. Running meant Dick would catch her by the time she made it up the stairs. On the positive side, a few steps would mean privacy. On the negative side, a few steps would mean privacy.

Rolling her eyes, she moved down the steps. Dick waited near the bottom.

"What the hell were you thinking coming here? Why did you sneak off the plane?" He asked before her foot could reach the marble tiles of the foyer.

"Maybe I was thinking that I didn't want to see you right now," she snapped. "And your brother wouldn't let me off of my own plane otherwise."

"Baby, I'm sorry," he started out. "I know I should have said something before now, but I had no idea Jason had asked Roy and Kori for help. If I'd have known, I would have told you earlier."

Wrong. Thing. To. Say . . .

Anger flashed in Elle's eyes. "Meaning, if Jason hadn't asked them, I still wouldn't know!" She wasn't yelling . . . yet. But her voice was rising with every word. "I might _never_ have known!"

Elle stormed toward him. Her plan, her speech was gone! Blown out of the water by her anger; completely forgotten in the heat of the moment.

"How many, Dick? How many more? Do I need to worry about Wonder Woman next?"

Dick backed up; blinking. "Wonder Woman? Hardly . . . She's at least five thousand years older than I am."

Elle faltered; confused.

"She's part goddess," he murmured. "She doesn't age like the rest of us."

"So not the point," Elle shrieked at him; waving a hand in the air. "You _lied_ to me!"

"I _didn't_ lie," Dick retorted. "I just didn't tell you."

"A lie by omission," she countered, "is still a lie."

Movement caught her eye as the woman at the heart of it all entered the house; Princess Koriand'r of Tamaran with her exotic alien beauty, strange eyes, and flaming hair.

"Dick? It is good to see you again," Kori moved in to greet him.

Panic flared in his eyes. "Kori, um . . . Hi," he stammered, glancing back at Elle. "Now's really not a good time."

Kori hesitated just a few steps away, but close enough that Elle could see the two of them as they might have looked as a couple. They were stunning . . .

The princess towered over Dick by several inches; he just topping her shoulder. It should have looked odd, but instead . . . A sharp pain of hurt and jealousy stabbed Elle's heart. How could she ever hope to step into this woman's place? Or Barbara Gordon's?

She was just a singer. She was just a nobody; a coward who just wanted to crawl into the linen closet and hide like Hugh had said. How was she ever expected to compete against women like this? Bold and beautiful; strong, brilliant, and powerful . . . How soon would Dick look at her and begin to grow bored?

Dick rubbed that spot over his chest, and she knew that he felt her pain. But when he reached for her, Elle stepped back. She didn't want to be touched right now. She just needed time to wrap her mind around this. What with her meeting with Aiden earlier, Elle hadn't had time to think about this latest revelation.

"Elle, wait," Dick said.

"Go home," she told him. "Go back to Gotham."

The shift in his expression was noticeable. It wasn't hurt she saw there, however, but determination.

"Not without you," he grabbed her wrist.

She didn't think; she just reacted. Who knew her reflexes could be that fast on land?

 ** _CRACK!_**

Dick's head rocked from the power behind the slap. He let her go.

Elle stared in horror at the bright red handprint displayed prominently across one side of his face as she tried shaking the sting out of her palm. She suddenly became aware of their audience when Jason and Edward ran in the door and slid to a halt. All of them staring at her. No one moved. No one spoke. It might have been funny, the looks on their faces, if it had been in any other situation.

She met Dick's eyes. That magnificent blue that never failed to take her breath away stared back at her in shock and regret.

 _He loves me_.

She had just slapped the hell out of him, and she still felt this overwhelming love for her coming from him. It should have felt reassuring, but instead it felt suffocating. She didn't deserve it. Her face heated in shame.

"Please, leave," she told him softly, and then turned and ran; heading for the one place of solace the house had to offer her.

* * *

Dick stared at her. Hurt, anger, jealousy . . . _doubt_? . . . Why doubt? Did she doubt him? And betrayal? Is that how she saw this? As a betrayal of her trust?

He supposed that she was right, but if his and Babs' relationship had been fraught with trouble, how his and Kori's had ended was nothing short of a disaster. He didn't like thinking about it even when he was alone; _especially_ when he was alone, but he _really_ didn't want to talk about it either. Not just to Elle, but to anyone.

 _Shame._ This emotion that came from her confused him, though.

She had slapped him, sure, but Dick didn't blame her at all. He had deserved it. He felt regret now for not bringing this up when his prior engagement to Babs had been discovered. He would have liked to have blamed Bruce for raising him to hide things from everyone; to internalize the pain, and shove it in a box where it wouldn't disturb the mission. But this wasn't Bruce's fault because Dick knew better.

These secrets weren't meant to be kept from Elle. She had a right to know, but he had chosen to keep them because he had wanted to avoid them for a little while longer. He should have known that these sort of things would blow up in his face one day.

Ironically, he had kept silent because he had wanted to avoid this very outcome . . . Because he loved her.

In the end, that was all that mattered. He loved her. The only power his secrets had to hurt her was the power he gave them by hiding them from her.

He could fix this . . . He held out his hand to her, only for her to step back.

"Please leave," Elle told him, and then she ran.

* * *

"Damn it," he muttered.

Dick moved to follow her, but Hugh stepped in front of him.

"Get the hell out of my way," he snarled. He didn't have time for this.

"Sorry, Grayson," Hugh said. He almost looked sincere about it, but it wasn't enough to make the man move. "You two aren't married yet. This is _her_ home, and we work for Bella. If she wants you to leave, then you're going."

Kori was suddenly beside him. "This is _my_ fault," she admitted regretfully. "I will hold him off for you while you go after her."

Hugh gaped at the alien woman as she practically lifted him from where he was standing and casually moved him aside.

"What the hell?" He yelped in surprise. He pulled his weapon.

Kori's power flared, and her eyes began to glow. She clamped her hand over the muzzle, and melted the end closed.

"If you try to fire your weapon now," she warned him, "it will explode in your face."

"Don't hurt him," Dick reminded her, although that was more from habit than from the belief she that she would do the man a serious violence. It had been a long time since Kori had been tempted to abuse her power. "And it's not your fault, Kori. It's mine."

There was some scuffling and a few grunts. Dick glanced back at the front door as Jason wrestled with Edward for his guns. In seconds, Edward was on the floor with his gun aimed at Jason's chest, and Jason standing above him with two aimed at the man in return. Roy had swiped his bow and quiver from the startled butler and had an arrow notched as he moved his target from one man to the other and back.

"Get going, Dickhead," Jason called to him. "We've got your back here."

 _Oh, shit_ . . . Dick facepalmed. He supposed that Jason wanting to help him was a good thing, but holding a gun on Elle's bodyguard was definitely _not_.

"You're his _brother_? What the hell? Who _are_ you people?" Edward growled at Jason.

This couldn't end well. What Dick knew of Elle's bodyguards is that they would take the shot if they got it. Jason and his mouth didn't have a reputation for easing tensions. If Dick left now, someone would get shot, and then there really _would_ be hell to pay.

" _Stop_! Everyone, just . . . stop," he yelled at them. "This is ridiculous! There's no need for this. This is a lover's spat; nothing more. Elle and I can work this out, but _not_ if you guys start shooting up her house and her employees!"

"Don't mess with us, Grayson. You don't want what comes next," Hugh grunted. Kori was holding him off of his feet by his shirt collar.

Dick glared at the man. "The ceremony is merely a technicality," he snapped. "You _know_ how this works. We've already bonded. That gives me the right to pursue her anywhere."

Hugh snarled. "Not if she says no!"

Edward suddenly held his hands out; his gun dangling from one finger. "No, Hugh. He's right. It's out of our hands, now. Let him go."

Funny, considering that Hugh had no way of stopping him, but Dick appreciated Edward's attempt to alleviate the tension in the atmosphere.

"What about _Bella's_ rights? _Her_ choices?" Hugh ground out. "Someone's got to look out for her. I'm not standing back and letting assholes push her around anymore; family or no family."

"That's rich considering you were the one insisting she talk to him in the first place," Edward snorted, shoving his gun back into the holster under Jason's watchful eyes.

Hugh looked like he wanted to argue the point, but huffed instead. He allowed his pistol to drop to the floor with a clatter. It was a token move since the firearm was now useless. Unless he wanted to throw it, that is. It was close. He glared at Dick instead.

"Don't hurt her anymore," Hugh told him.

Roy had put away his arrow and handed the bow back to Fredrick. Jason reluctantly reholstered his weapons; obviously having no intention of handing them back to anyone. He held a hand out to help Edward to his feet. Kori was slowly lowering Hugh back to his feet.

"That was never my intention," Dick murmured, and turned to follow in Elle's wake.

He knew exactly where she was going.

* * *

Dick entered the pool room. He didn't see her at first, but that was because Elle wasn't swimming. She was sitting . . . on the bottom of the deep end. Dick's lips twitched up when he realized that she didn't bother stripping this time, except for her shoes. His flicker of amusement died away, though, at the thought that this was a testament to her upset that she had just dived in clothes and all.

He found a place to sit on one of the lounge chairs and prepared to wait.

And wait . . .

. . . And wait some more.

Bruce poked his nose in at one point.

 _It must be late_.

"They told me you were down here with Elle," he started hesitantly; glancing around. "I didn't want to interrupt you. I heard she was a little upset with you for not telling her about your relationship with Starfire."

"A little?" Dick snorted.

"She had a right to know," Bruce commented. "Can't be a pleasant way to meet your fiancé's ex."

"I know that, Bruce," he huffed. "You want to know the ironic part? I just decided I would tell her about it, but Jason beat me to it."

"Not the best timing . . ." Bruce agreed. He frowned. "Where is she? Did she go upstairs?"

Dick shrugged and tilted his head in the direction of the pool. Curious, Bruce stepped to the side and did a double-take. It takes a lot to surprise Bruce, and Dick was a little bummed that he couldn't enjoy the moment more.

"She's . . . sitting on the bottom of the pool," he remarked needlessly. Chalk up another first for Elle; she had Bruce muttering inanities now. He looked back at Dick, and gestured at the sight. "How long has she been down there? Should we be worried?"

Dick crossed his arms behind his head and looked up at the skylight. It was nearly the length of the pool. Winter skies; there had been hints of pale blue peeking down through the plentiful gray clouds when he had first come down here. Now, stars winked at him.

"She's good. She can breathe underwater, apparently," Dick admitted casually.

"Really? I didn't notice gills. Do they somehow come and go like the webbing you said she gets between her fingers?"

"Nope! No gills. She breathes through her skin . . . like an amphibian," Dick said.

He watched Bruce for his reaction. Never big by anyone else's standards; Bruce was Batman, after all, nonetheless, any little twitch of the lip or the brow was worth noting. Both eyebrows rose. Dick smiled despite the circumstances.

"I suppose I should have expected that," the older man remarked. "Makes sense."

Dick sighed heavily. "She's pouting now. It's easier to not speak to me underwater." He met Bruce's gaze. "How do you handle a pouty woman? You're Bruce Wayne; you're bound to have had hundreds."

"Hundreds? I'm a little smoother than that, I'll have you know." Bruce narrowed his eyes at his smartass son. "Send her flowers or jewelry. Depends on the severity of the infraction. Then I would wait a little while after I knew it had been delivered before calling her up."

Dick sat up and rested an arm across his leg. "You know . . . It's probably a good thing you don't want to get married."

"What? It's always worked for me," Bruce assured him. "Of course, I tried to not tick the woman off unless I wanted to end the relationship."

Dick grabbed a decorative pillow from the lounge chair next to him and threw it at the man. Bruce caught it, and set it down on the chair closest to him.

"You're no help," the younger man complained.

"Then I'll leave you to your brooding," Bruce acquiesced.

"I'm not brooding," he grumped.

"Like father, like son," Bruce chuckled as he moved to the door. "Wait until I tell Alfred."

Dick sighed. "Wait! Why did you come down here looking for me?"

The amusement slid away. "I think we have a culprit," he told him.

Standing up, Dick faced him. "Well, don't keep me in suspense. Who are we hunting?"

"Deadshot."

Dick gaped. "No way." He looked back at the wavering image of Elle through the water. "Deadshot never misses."

"Unless he means to," Bruce corrected him. "But I'm not sure that was case this time. He meant to hit the pilot, I'm positive, but based off the video we saw and the angle he was using from his position in the apartment, I don't think he could get a clear shot at her. He had planned to send the helicopter to the ground, but hadn't expected Jason's skill behind the controls."

"What do we do? He can't get another shot at her. There's no way he would let her walk away," Dick told him; a flare of something like panic caught him by surprise.

"And let's not forget that he's likely after you as well," Bruce cautioned. Dick waved the idea away, but Bruce pointed a finger at him. " _No_ , you're unable to go that self-sacrificing route this time. You've been lucky so far, but if you die, she dies. And if she dies first . . ."

"I don't want to live," Dick answered.

Bruce grimaced at the reminder.

"Go," he said. "Work out your problems. It's late. Fredrick already made up rooms for us. We can stay the night, talk in the morning, and head back to Gotham tomorrow."

Now it was Dick's turn to be taken aback. "You're staying?"

Bruce frowned. He moved back to stand in front of his son; placing his hand on Dick's shoulder. "I know I've given you plenty of reasons to doubt me throughout the years, but I assure you that _nothing_ is more important to me than family."

"The mission . . ."

"Will still be there. It will _always_ be there." He squeezed Dick's shoulder gently. "I've come too close to losing you. I'll always have the mission, but I might not always have you . . . or Tim, or Damian, or even Jason," he went on. Bruce let his eyes stray beyond his son to the pool's lone occupant. "But we have a new member of the family now. Let's try not to screw this up."

Dick cleared his throat. "Right," he whispered.

It always surprised him when Bruce opened up like this. It didn't happen often, and Dick strived to savor every moment. Bruce had been doing better at it, though, since that Christmas a couple of years ago when he had showed up at Dick's apartment on Christmas morning apologizing for their falling out. That was when Bruce had stunned him with the offer to adopt him officially. It had been the best Christmas that Dick could remember.

With one last squeeze for good luck or strength, or whatever, Bruce left the pool room and went upstairs. Dick turned around and contemplated his bondmate.

She was still angry with him, but it had been hours now, and Elle needed to eat something, and then get some sleep. She couldn't stay down there all night.

Dick frowned . . . Or _could_ she?

* * *

It took him less than a minute to make the decision to go in after her. He promised himself that he wouldn't come up without her. He smirked at his plan. There wouldn't be any choice. She couldn't let him die without losing her own life. If she still refused to come up, Elle would be forced to breathe for him. Dick smiled as he remember the results of the last time Elle had breathed for him.

That had been a great night!

He kicked off his shoes, and took off the sweater he was wearing; leaving only his white undershirt on. He took the belt off and the socks, but his jeans remained. He was tempted to strip bare, but a glance back at the glass wall and door that allowed anyone coming down the stairs to see the occupants in the pool changed his mind. Although he doubted Bruce would return and knew Hugh and Edward wouldn't bother, there was still Tim and Damian . . .

 _And let's not forget Jason_! The younger man had been a thorn in Dick's side since this whole debacle had started. It would be just like him to wander downstairs out of curiosity or on the off-chance that it would annoy Dick. And it would annoy him, he was sure.

So, in jeans and an undershirt, Dick dove into the pool.

Elle was deep enough that Dick needed to equalize the pressure on his way down. She could have gone deeper he realized, and was thankful she hadn't. She was sitting with her legs crossed; looking like she was meditating. Her hair was loose and flowing around her in almost a surreal way. Her beige sweater and slacks looked out of place. All that was missing was the jacket she had worn to her meeting with her board of directors.

The picture she made kind of creeped him out actually. Too many bodies fished out of the Gotham River to make this a comfortable sight for him.

Elle's eyes opened as he neared her. She obviously felt his movements through the water, or maybe it was a form of her echolocation. He didn't know; he thought maybe he should, though. He wanted to know everything about this woman.

He hated that he had hurt her. He hadn't meant for this to happen. He just wanted to avoid a painful part of his life a little longer. He would try to make her understand somehow, if, that is, she would stop this and surface with him. The pressure was becoming uncomfortable to him. Dick thought it had been too long since he had practiced diving.

When she looked at him, Dick pointed to the surface. Elle shook her head.

 _Stubborn woman_!

He touched her arm and pointed upward when she opened her eyes. She frowned and shook her head. He was feeling the lack of oxygen already. Dick crossed his legs and settled in front of her. If she wasn't coming up, then neither was he.

His plan was working. Elle frowned at him again and pointed to the surface. He pointed back at her and then up. She shook her head. He shook his head and remained planted in front of her. He closed his eyes; taking up her meditative pose. A couple of seconds later, Elle was shaking his arm. Not a moment too soon. He was going to need a breath before much longer.

She pointed at him and then up. Dick shook his head. He repeated the hand movements in her direction. Her mouth dropped open as she realized his intent. She pointed up insistently. Dick pointed at her in the same fashion. He was feeling lightheaded and getting a little desperate, but he refused to ask her for oxygen. She would have to offer it willingly.

His thoughts were getting panicky and a bit cloudy. He could see her counting in her head; trying to determine how much oxygen he had left. He could tell her . . . It wasn't much. Spots started appearing in front of his eyes as his lungs began burning. He need to breathe was growing stronger.

Dick grabbed Elle's hand in an effort to stay where he was, and not go shooting toward the surface. Although he was beginning to believe he had waited too long for that. They were too deep. His need for oxygen would overwhelm him before he could make it.

Elle's eyes widened as she began to feel his urgency and panic. His body fought him now. She unwound her legs and pointed up.

Ah, he'd won . . . His body jerked suddenly as it tried to force him to take a breath. It didn't understand there was no air to be had. His lungs expelled the wasted air in a burst of bubbles.

Elle grabbed his face and blew oxygen into his lungs forcefully. His lungs expanded gratefully, and the spots receded somewhat. He shook his head, feeling confused still. Elle wasn't done with him, and forced another lungful of her excess oxygen into him. Then, sliding her arm under one of his, she kicked off the bottom; dragging his weakened body through the water with her.

Understanding his need to pause every so often to avoid the bends, Elle would halt their progression and blow another lungful of fresh oxygen into him. Then, after a few moments, she would pull him along with her; getting closer to the surface. It took one more stop, and then their heads broke the surface. Dick started coughing as a little water had made it into his lungs at some point along the way.

He relaxed; letting Elle do all the work. The water revitalized her; filling her with strength she didn't have access to while on land. She might even be stronger than he was while in the water. He didn't feel like testing it, though, as he tried to catch his breath between ragged coughs.

Elle stood on her feet in the shallows, and dragged Dick to the edge of the pool. She climbed out, and while she was still dripping and reasonably strong, she pulled him onto the deck.

" _Damn you_ , Dick Grayson," she shouted at him. It echoed around the room. "What the _hell_ were you trying to do?"

He started to open his mouth to answer her, but she interrupted him.

"It doesn't matter what you were trying to do," she griped at him, "you very nearly succeeded in drowning yourself!"

He coughed in agreement. It was close, he admitted in his mind.

"You realize if you had drowned, you would have taken me with you? Can you even imagine the unlikelihood of a Siren dying by drowning?" She rambled on angrily. Elle was on a roll and didn't even need his arguments to assist her in her raging.

"Don't you do that _ever_ again," she practically shrieked in his face.

Dick caught her face between his hands and held her still.

"Then don't make me," he said against her lips, and then kissed her.

She froze under the abrupt assault in shock. Dick pressed his advantage, but all too soon, she came to her senses and broke the kiss. Elle pulled back with an outraged gasp.

"I will _always_ come after you," Dick promised her with a growl.

Elle stared at him as water dripped off of their eyelashes, nose, and chin.

"What are you doing here?" She asked him finally.

"What do you think?" He tilted his head at her confusion.

"No, I mean, _here_ . . . with _me_."

"What are you talking about?" He frowned.

She blinked at him. "I _saw_ her," she gasped out. "That . . . That woman! She's magnificent! I don't understand, Dick? You were with her for _years_! What happened to the two of you?"

"Stop. What are _you_ doing, Elle?" He gaped at her. "Are . . . Are you trying to . . . what? To get Kori and I back together again? It's _over_! We aren't getting back together. Even before I met you and we bonded, it wasn't going to happen."

"If it's over, then you can explain it to me," she said. "You two made it all the way to the wedding, for God's sake! How do you just . . . just walk away from that?"

When Dick was slow answering her, Elle made a disgusted noise and climbed to her feet. She walked over to the cabinets that lined one wall and pulled out a couple of towels. She tossed him one, then walked over to one of the lounge chairs and sat down with her back to him.

He watched her strip off her sweater, soaked and heavy with pool water, and toss it over the back of the chair back. She left her lacy beige bra on and proceeded to towel-dry her hair in sections.

He climbed to his feet and made his way over to her. He sat down on the chair at her back. He wasn't quite ready to face her, but needed to be near her.

* * *

"You should have told me," Elle said to him finally; going back to the heart of the matter.

"I-I know," he admitted. "And I'm sorry."

When no other words of explanation came, Elle stopped drying her hair to look back over her shoulder at him. For someone who never truly loved Kori, he seemed to be having a difficult time with the memories. She hadn't been there for it. Elle could only guess what had been going through either of their minds at the time. Part of her was afraid to delve; afraid to bring back the same emotions that had spurred Dick to ask this other woman to marry him in the first place.

Oddly enough, she noticed that his emotions seemed somehow muted to her. She could feel his upset, but couldn't tell if that was due to regurgitated history, or if he was upset that she had had to find out about it in this way. So, Elle reached out to him; shamelessly using their bond to pick at the scab only to discover that he was actively trying to hide those emotions from her.

Frowning, Elle turned around on the lounge chair to face him.

"Dick?"

He hung his head down; refusing to look at her. "That wasn't a good time for me, Elle," he murmured quietly. "For either of us. Bad things were happening . . . t-to everyone."

"I know."

Dick peered up at her without actually raising his head.

"Kori told me about your friend murdering the minister, and how she became . . . p-possessed?" Elle scrunched her nose. "God, that sounds so bizarre."

Dick looked up, startled, but then turned to the side. "That . . . Yeah, that, too."

Elle blinked. _That, too_? _Was there more_? She thought back over the conversation she had had with the alien princess a few hours ago. Kori had hinted that there was other stuff going on, but hadn't elaborated. Something about a misunderstanding.

"Dick . . . What happened? What are you hiding from me now?" She asked, feeling a little desperate.

But she wasn't the only one feeling this way. Desperation flared before Dick shut it down – **_hard_**! He simply closed off, and shut down. Elle's eyes widened in surprise as he stood up. His face was a blank wall; even the bond couldn't break through the steel door he had just slammed shut on his emotions.

"I'm sorry," he apologized again, but this time it came out flat and emotionless. "I should have told you; been up front with you about both Babs and Kori. I have no excuse, but you know now."

Elle blinked. He might have been a robot or manikin.

"Look, I've been in a number of relationships," he admitted. "Only Babs and Kori did I become engaged to. Things didn't work out. I love _you_ now."

He was so closed off at the moment, she couldn't quite tell if he meant that. She knew he did, of course . . . Only moments ago she had felt his love for her, but she might have been in the room alone for all she could ' _feel_ ' him now.

"But those were difficult times, and I want nothing more than to put them behind me." It was a statement, but the question was in his eyes . . . his very blue eyes. Would she leave it alone?

She would . . . for now, but there was something bad in Dick's head, and Elle wanted to get to the bottom of it. But after all the drama of the day, they both deserved a break. So, she nodded and kept her mouth shut.

* * *

 **REACTIONS?**

 **Dick's still keeping secrets. Will he open up to her or not? Either way, maybe things can settle down between the two . . .**

 **Deadshot. They have a name, but will that be enough. He's not known for walking away from a contract.**


	11. Sharing Is Caring

**Warning: Strong Language, Suggestive Material . . .**

* * *

"Everyone is upstairs."

Dick caught her arm as she started to leave the pool room. It wasn't that she wasn't covered. She was . . . The robes that were left here covered everything to mid-calf. But she was naked underneath and he was nearly.

"Who is everyone?" Elle hesitated, allowed him his hold on her.

He didn't answer her. Her question wasn't what was important anymore.

This was no longer about the argument. It was about _them_. They couldn't stand to have this . . . separation between them. It didn't even have to be physical apparently. In fact, the anger was worse than the miles that had been between them, Gotham and Chicago.

Dick's hand stroked her arm of its own volition. God, even the terrycloth was too much.

"I _need_ you," he whispered.

He was standing in the room, oxygen all around him now and it was as if he were still drowning. He couldn't breathe without her. His hand slid down to her wrist, to skin, and pushed the heavy material out of the way, sliding his hand back up her arm. Her own breath caught in her throat.

Oh yeah, she was feeling the same thing as he was. He didn't even have to reach out to know. Her physical reaction to him was all he needed to understand the need that was growing inside her. It mirrored his own. His desperation was hers. He stepped closer, his chest to her back, and nuzzled her hair out of his way. His lips found that sensitive place behind her ear that only he knew about. She might be upset, but it wasn't enough to prevent her head from tilting to the side to give him better access. She could stop him with a simple word, but she remained silent . . . her consent given by her actions.

She needed this as much as he did.

Dick's hand brushed over the cloth and along her shoulders. He pushed the material down over her shoulders, his mouth tracing a path along all that silky skin. He breathed in deeply, inhaling her scent. God! She smelled so good . . .

As the terrycloth fell down to her waist, his hands slid up to cover her breasts and her own breathing deepened. Elle turned in his arms and threw her arms around his neck. Her mouth sought and found his and the room fell away. The wall of glass never entered their minds as all the emotions of the day evaporated, leaving behind only one . . . The only one that mattered. And he felt it then: her love for him! It washed over him like a wave of warm water and he reveled in it, drowned in it willingly. Oxygen was optional at this moment; he thought he could live on this feeling alone.

He answered her in kind . . . Her unspoken plea. Nothing else was important except this. Their love. It was like a physical presence that wrapped itself around them, shielding them from the rest of the world, from the dangers and their enemies, from their families and friends, from their problems at the moment and from the mistakes of their pasts.

Everything else ceased to exist at that point. All that remained was Arabella and Richard; Elle and Dick . . . and the love that bound them together at that place where their souls linked and the one became the other.

* * *

She tugged her robe closed and tied it as Dick continued toweling her hair dry again. He stood behind her clothed only in a towel. She was tempted to yank it off and push him back into the pool. They were a long way off to working everything out between them still, but it was a start. How many more secrets could the man possibly have? She knew he was Nightwing, that he had been engaged twice; hell, she had even met both of his exes! Was this the end of it?

She remembered his slip of the tongue earlier. The misunderstanding that Kori had mentioned and Dick's admission that there was something very bad in his past that he didn't want talk about. Elle had the feeling that the two events were one and the same. But she had intimated that she would give him his space and she would. For now . . .

But they would be talking about this again sometime. Whatever dark place dwelt still in his mind, Elle would eventually expose it to the light and help him move past it. But later.

Elle tossed him his robe and then picked up their clothes. Hers were likely too damaged to salvage. Dick's, however, weren't so easily ruined. Franklin would sort it out for her, or she would determine for herself tomorrow. They picked up their shoes and Dick held the door open for her.

"Ready to turn in?" he asked. "I think it is almost midnight."

Elle stared at him. "Already?"

He smirked at her. "Did you take a nap down there?"

Elle laughed. "Maybe. I'm more hungry than tired at the moment despite everything that's happened today."

"Oh, just so you know, Bruce, Damian, and Tim arrived a few hours ago," he told her as they made their way to the kitchen.

She was surprised. "Everyone came up?"

A blush stole up her neck and face. Instead of greeting her guests, unexpected though they were, Elle had spent the evening pouting in the pool. How was she supposed to face them in the morning?

"Not to worry," Dick gave her waist a squeeze encouragingly. "Franklin saw to it everyone was fed and found a bed."

"Oh, Dick," she moaned. "I feel horrible! You should have told me sooner."

"I couldn't tell you anything until you climbed out of the water," he reminded her. "And by then we had other things to talk about."

"Nonna would be so ashamed of me," Elle lamented.

"You had reason to be upset. They understand that. Everyone is just happy that you're okay. We were worried when you weren't on board the jet." Dick told her. He snorted with laughter. "You should have seen Jason's face!"

"Does it look as pretty as yours?" Elle asked sarcastically as she traced a bruise along Dick's jawline.

"Twice as," he smirked. "Don't worry. It was just a little tussle. We've been into it worse than that."

"Hm," she hummed, disbelieving.

She had felt the surge of anger at one point that hadn't been all hers. Unfortunately, Elle had been all caught up in her own upset and attempting to come up with an offer for Aiden that would work to all of their advantages to notice what might have been happening to Dick.

They pushed their way into the kitchen and gaped at the mess on the counter.

"Damian, we want to slice the ham, not butcher it," Tim complained.

The youngest Wayne was currently hacking slices off of the roasted ham in chunks with a knife far too big for him. "What does it matter when it all ends up in the same place anyway?"

"It falls out of the sandwich like that," Tim snatched the knife.

"Hey! Give that back or I'll skewer you," Damian threatened, with a carving fork in his hand.

"Whoa!" Elle yelped, moving quickly. She nipped this argument in the bud. "No threatening people's lives with kitchen utensils! Franklin and Henry would have your hide!"

Damian looked over. "Who's Henry?"

"The chef that I bring in when I am in residence," she told him as she plucked the carving fork out of Damian grip.

"I bet I could take him," he muttered but he let it go without a fight.

She tossed it down on the counter and opened her arms with a smile.

"Now, are you going to stand there with that frown on your face or are you going to give me a proper greeting?" she demanded.

Although Damian's ears turned a little red, he complied easily enough, stepping into her hug without complaint.

"Are you okay? Do I need to take Grayson outside and teach him some manners for you?" Damian offered. Elle might have laughed but the miniature assassin looked a little too serious.

"We're fine now, thank you anyway," she assured him. She shot a glance at Dick and saw him biting his jaw in order to stay silent. Probably a good idea with Damian, she decided. The boy hadn't learned how to laugh outright, let alone at himself.

Damian peered around her arm at his eldest brother. "She let you off easy, Grayson. I would have let you drown."

Tim face startled. "Damian! Shut it!"

The couple stared at Tim and watched the older teen blush next, even brighter than his little brother had, in fact. Dick looked suspicious.

"Did you two go downstairs to the pool?" he asked slowly.

Tim's eyes widened slightly. "Ah, well, see . . . Damian thought . . . Ah hell! I only went in to try and stop him. You know how the little cretin is about taking suggestions!"

"I was tired of waiting on you two," Damian admitted defiantly. He shot his brother a look that promised retribution over his 'cretin' comment but stayed on subject. "How were we to know you two would be . . ." he cleared his throat. "You two don't do that in _our_ pool, do you?"

"Oh my God!" Elle's hands flew up to her face. "Damian!"

Dick rounded on her, his cheeks stained a darker pink that before. "What did I tell you about glass walls?" He looked at Tim. "How bad was it?"

"Not as bad as all that," the older boy tried to assure them. "I mean, we kind of figured what was up when we saw that big pile of clothes on the floor. The water obscured . . . ah, _most_ of it," he added quickly, waving his hands in the air for emphasis. "We didn't stop to stare or anything! I grabbed Damian and hauled him out of there straight away! I swear!"

Elle leaned her elbows on the counter with her face still buried in her hands. Her shoulders were shaking. Damian and Tim stared at her in horror, thinking they had embarrassed her to the point of tears. Thankfully, they realized that the sounds she was making were those of laughter.

She finally straightened, still red-faced, and wiped her eyes. Damian frowned, confused. Was she crying or laughing? He couldn't always tell . . .

"That's it," she giggled. "I'm having Franklin arrange to have that glass frosted."

Dick snorted. "You might have him place a lock on the door as well."

She glanced at her guests and nodded with mild annoyance. "Yes, I'm beginning to see your point. That might just be a good idea, after all."

Damian scoffed. "It was not that big of deal. I was educated in the workings of the reproductive system when I was being taught anatomy."

Elle gaped at him surprised. "But you're eleven! Since when does anyone take anatomy and physiology that young?" She preferred to ignore the reproductive part of his comment.

The boy shrugged. "Mother suggested I take it in order to understand which places were best to target when battling the enemy."

Tim snorted. "He means the best places to strike in order to kill somebody."

Damian scowled. "Obviously! *tt* If they get up, you may be forced to fight them again! It is always prudent to destroy them quickly the first time and this will prevent them from further inconveniencing you."

"Damian," Dick admonished him.

"Better them than us," Damian countered

"We do _not_ kill our enemies." Dick reminded him.

He rolled his eyes at them, sighing heavily. "I know that but I still think showing mercy to those who would just as soon slay you is foolish. Mother and Grandfather would agree with me."

"Your mother and your grandfather are not the best role models," Dick told him firmly. "You are living with your father now, and _we_ do things differently."

"I _know_ that," Damian insisted. "How did this get to be about me? _You_ were the idiot that didn't tell Elle that you were engaged to that alien!"

Tim elbowed the boy. "Shut up! They've started speaking to each other again."

"Keep your elbows to yourself, Drake, or I will . . ." Damian started.

"Do nothing," came a voice from the doorway.

The four turned as one to find Bruce standing just inside the kitchen door. "I apologize for my children, Elle. They will be cleaning this mess up and heading back to bed _now_."

"But we're hungry," Damian complained.

Elle smiled. It felt a little forced. This was the first blatant admission by Damian that he had been raised by assassins to kill people and it was a little much to take in. She reminded herself that he was still just a boy, and it took time to undo ten and a half years of wrongheaded training.

"Dick and I missed dinner. We stopped in to grab something to eat, too," she said. "I can whip us up something no time at all if you give me a moment." She held her hand out to Tim and he gingerly placed the carving knife into it. "Tim, I think there is some turkey in the fridge as well, if you would get it out? Is sandwiches alright with everyone?"

Bruce shook his head. "Nothing for me. I'm not hungry. I came down to look for wayward children."

Tim scowled as he slammed the refrigerator door shut with his hip. His hands were full with the turkey. "Hey! I'm a legal adult now. I can be drafted and vote . . ."

"I'm hungry, father," Damian interrupted him before turning to Elle. "I prefer turkey to swine."

"Turkey it is, then," she smiled at him. Bruce took the starch out of everyone's sails, thank goodness. She was beginning to think she was going to have to take the boys to task herself. "Are you sure you don't want something? Turkey, perhaps? Or would you prefer swine?"

"Swine for me," Tim said quickly. "I'm hungry, too. Alfred suggested I might be on a growth spurt." He grinned at Dick. The two of them were of a height now. If Tim grew again, he would be taller than his eldest brother.

"You'll always be 'shrimp' to me, kid," Dick shrugged. "Here, I'll help," he offered, and pushed Tim and Damian out from behind the counter. The further away they were from sharp instruments, the less blood they would have to clean up later.

Elle tugged her robe closely around her and tightened the belt before setting to work. This was her home and her kitchen, and although Dick's family would soon be her family, right now they were her guests. As Bruce pushed the two boys in the direction of the kitchen table, Elle and Dick quickly made up sandwiches and poured glasses of milk.

In a few minutes, they were gathered around the table, eating.

"You make a mean sandwich, Elle," Tim complimented after a drink of milk. "Thank you."

Dick frowned at his brother. "I helped, you know."

She patted his hand and leaned into him to kiss his cheek. "That's true, you did," she crooned. "Everyone would still be waiting for their sandwiches without you."

Dick preened a little. He grinned at Tim. "You're welcome."

"Are you sure you don't want something, Bruce?" Elle asked. "I saw that we have a loaf of banana nut bread, if you're in the mood for something a little sweet."

"I am fine." Bruce reassured her. He had taken a glass of milk, however. "Has Dick told you what we found yet?"

Dick shook his head. "We had lot of other things to talk about."

Damian snorted in his milk and choked. Dick kicked him under the table and sent him a look of warning. Bruce noticed but wisely chose to remain on topic.

"Tim and Damien and I searched the apartment that the shooter was using to attack your helicopter today," Bruce began.

Elle straightened. "You know who it was? You're sure?" She looked at Dick. "It wasn't that other man . . . Nameless? It _couldn't_ be him, could it?"

Dick shook his head and put an arm around her shoulders. "It wasn't Nameless."

Elle turned back to Bruce. "Who?"

"He's called Deadshot," Bruce told her. "His name is Floyd Lawton and he's an assassin."

If they were expecting her to collapse, they were to be disappointed. Elle narrowed her eyes as she committed the information to memory. This was just one less step her brother would need to go through to find the person responsible for putting out a contract on her and Dick. Aiden was ruthless and he was used to bribing, bending, and breaking rules to get what he wanted, and what he wanted more than anything was half of their father's companies. She was depending on that little personality trait to get _her_ what _she_ wanted . . . Peace of mind.

Elle had pulled the strings herself and gone through numerous avenues to be able to offer this to him. She would keep half and abide by her father's wishes but on her own terms, such as promoting Michael Grassi, her CFO, to CEO in her stead. She would remain the owner of the companies and he would run them almost completely independent of her except on extremely important items that required her personal attention. And the best part: she would be free to live her life as she and Dick saw fit.

In her opinion, it was a bargain.

"We need to take this seriously, Elle," Dick added. "We've had dealings with Deadshot. He doesn't miss."

Elle pursed her lips. "He did today."

"Actually, he didn't," another voice came from the doorway. "He wasn't aiming for you." Jason walked in and pulled the extra chair around backwards and straddled it. "He was aiming for the pilot. His intentions were to down the helicopter with everyone, but especially _you_ , on board. He very nearly succeeded."

Frowning at him, Elle snapped. "I didn't realize that _you_ were still here."

Jason leaned forward and snagged a grape from the bowl of fruit sitting on the table. "You're not still mad over today, are you?" he asked calmly, popping the small fruit into his mouth.

"You will _never_ do that again," she told him angrily, ignoring the stares around the table.

He shrugged. "I won't unless I need to . . . again," he added with a smile.

Elle stood up, her chair making high-pitched scraping sounds on the floor tile. Dick stood up and rested a hand on her arm.

"He wasn't doing it to annoy you, Elle. I asked him to protect you," Dick reminded her quickly. "And he can't do that properly if we only give him partial information."

Elle stared at him, shaking her head. "Ask him to stop protecting me then and it won't be an issue."

"I can't do that and you know it. Sweetheart, it's not that big of deal. Bruce already knows a lot of it. He's cool with it. He doesn't judge you and neither will anyone else." Dick told her.

He wanted to tell his family her secrets while she just wanted to forget about them. Her life had seemed so much less complicated just six months ago.

"Does this have anything to do with that ' _bond_ ' that your bodyguards were talking about . . ." Jason glanced at his watch, "yesterday?"

Tim frowned at him. "I heard of that term before," he said. He turned eyes on the couple. "Is someone going to explain it to us?"

"Is there a choice?" Elle muttered as she sat down heavily. The day was never going to end.

"It would make protecting Dick easier as well," Bruce murmured.

Elle winced. As angry as she had been with him today, Elle never wanted anything bad to happen to Dick. She loved him, even as he drove her bonkers by keeping secrets. She had her own secrets, however, and, truthfully, she didn't even begrudge him his but for not telling her he had almost been married twice.

But Bruce had a point. Their survival depended upon the safety of the other. She sighed and looked at her bondmate. He must have felt her resignation.

"Elle is of Atlantian descent," Dick began.

Jason and Tim frowned as they exchanged glances. That wasn't what they had been expecting.

"What?" Jay stared. "You mean Elle has gills and can like breathe underwater?"

Elle lifted her hair and showed them her smooth neck. "No gills," she said and held up her hand, wiggling her fingers. "No webbed fingers unless they get wet."

Jason goggled. "Wait! Are you serious? If your hands get wet they become webbed?"

Elle blushed and leaned back in her chair.

Jason suddenly jumped up. "Hold up! I've got to see this," he exclaimed and dashed into the kitchen to rummage in the cabinets. Grabbing a bowl, he started filling it with water.

Dick scowled. "Forget it, Jason. She's not a sideshow attraction here for your amusement!"

Jason ignored him and stomped back, sloshing water out of the bowl with every step. He thumped the bowl down onto the table in front of Elle.

"If you're going to make wild claims like that, you're going to have to prove it, princess," he declared.

Dick rose to his feet angrily but Elle laid a hand on his arm.

"It's okay," she told him, "really. We're going to be family, right? Family deserves to know the truth. Papa kept things from me. I'm not going to start off with a bunch of secrets with my new family."

Dick slowly sat back down as Elle dipped her hands in the water. After just a few seconds, she drew them out, still dripping, and held them up with her fingers spread. The webbing rose up only to her first knuckle but it was noticeable even from across the table.

Jason grabbed her hand with a look of disbelief. His fingers gently prodded the delicate webbing. "I thought you two were pulling one over on us to change the subject. You really have webbed hands!" He started laughing. "That's a new one on me."

Tim moved around the table as well and leaned in between Elle and Dick as Damian shoved Jason out of his way in his eagerness to see.

"May I," Tim asked softly before examining her hands more closely. He, too, touched the thin skin between each finger. "And this disappears when your hands are dry?"

"Yes," she told them. "My mother had it as does my grandmother. I thought it was a just an odd birth defect that ran in my family. No one ever commented on it. Nonna's webbing is more pronounced and doesn't go away when her hands dry. Even still, hers doesn't appear to be that noticeable. You've all met her and yet no one remarked on it."

Tim looked surprised. "I didn't notice it," he admitted. "And here I pride myself on being observant." He shook his head ruefully.

Damian looked at Elle's hand but didn't touch her. She looked at him worriedly, wondering if this would change the boy's feelings about her.

"Damian?" she asked softly.

"Does it hurt?" he blurted out suddenly. "When it comes and goes, I mean?"

She shrugged. "No, it doesn't hurt."

Even as they watched the webbing began to retract as Elle's hands dried in the air.

"Whoa," Jason snorted with amusement. "That makes for a neat parlor trick. Does it make you faster in the water?"

Dick picked up the bowl of water and dumped it in the sink. "Faster than you'll ever be," he smirked.

"Seriously?" Jason blinked, still smiling over the fact that his new sister-in-law was a mermaid.

"She has the trophies upstairs to prove it," Dick sat down beside her and took Elle's hand in his own. "In fact, I timed her once. She swims at least as fast as an Olympic runner can run."

Elle smiled impishly. "Of course, that was in a pool. In open water, I can swim faster still."

Tim nodded. "That explains how you were able to get to Damian so quickly when he hit his head on the diving board."

* * *

Bruce had been quietly observing the demonstration. It was the first time he'd witnessed some of what Dick and Elle's claims were. He kept his opinions to himself. He already knew of all this. He was more interested in the bond. There were new aspects of it they had yet to discuss.

"What else can you do?" Tim asked. "Without gills you wouldn't be able to breathe underwater, would you?"

Dick and Elle exchanged another glance. "Actually," Elle told them, "I can. I breathe through my skin like an amphibian while underwater. Excess oxygen can be stored in my lungs making it possible for me to breathe for someone else who is underwater."

That caught Bruce's attention. He hadn't known this about her. "And you know this how?" he asked. "Have you tested it yet?"

Dick blushed slightly and nodded. "We have. It works."

"How deep can you dive?" Damian spoke up finally. "You pulled me out of the pool and it was really deep."

"I-I don't know for sure," Elle admitted. "I've gone diving with my father and brother a few times in Lake Michigan and managed to go about a hundred and fifty feet with no problem but I never really pushed the envelope. Of course that was back when I didn't know I was anything more than a regular human."

Jason looked intrigued by that. "You didn't know? You have webbing between your fingers when you get wet and you can breathe through your skin. How could you _not_ know you were something more than human?"

"My parents wanted me to have a normal childhood. They had decided that they wouldn't tell me of my heritage until I was an adult. I was only told the truth recently, after Dick and I started dating in fact." Elle said defensively. "I didn't know I could breathe underwater. I just thought I could hold my breath for a really long time. I learned in science class that the longest someone could hold their breath without harming themselves was near five minutes. So I never went longer than five minutes before resurfacing." Elle grinned. "I've learned that water strengthens me and I'm stronger wet than I am dry. Just an F.Y.I"

"And you are allergic to chlorine," Damian added. He looked at Jason. "You should know that."

Jason frowned. "What? You break out in hives or something?"

Elle sighed. "Something like that. The pools here are salt water filtered. As a matter of fact, the whole house is done up with a specialized filtration system that Hamilton Industries designed. No chlorine here."

"No cleaning solutions that contain chlorine bleach either," Dick mentioned. "The smell of chlorine can cause her breathing problems."

"Damn," Jason blurted.

Bruce cut in here. It was becoming obvious that Elle was stalling. There were important facts about the two of them now that the rest of the family needed to know. While her allergy to chlorine was important to know about, the bond was vital.

"There are other things you three should be made aware of," Bruce interjected. "For instance, Elle can only take her own blood when injured or Dick's. Any other type would kill her."

"Wait! Why Dick's?" Tim asked, catching that fact immediately.

Dick cleared his throat. "Because of the bond we share."

Tim and Jason looked at each other.

"There's that word again," Jason jumped on it. "'Bond' . . . What bond?"

"That was how you knew Elle wasn't on the jet, wasn't it?" Tim asked. "And how you knew she needed you when I came to patrol with you that one time in Bludhaven!"

"What?" Jason scoffed. "Are you telling us that you two are psychic or something? You can read each other's thoughts?"

"Or something," Elle said again. "We can't read each other's thoughts but we can feel what the other one is feeling most of the time. But it is limited by distance, although that seems to be increasing, doesn't it?"

Dick nodded. "At first we were limited to the area of Elle's apartment. But during emergencies, when one of us is in danger or the emotions are extreme, there doesn't seem to be a limit to that. I could feel you were in trouble when you were mugged even though I was on the Watchtower. And across the city when your father died."

"Watchtower? What's that?" Elle asked.

"Hold up! Is that why . . .?" Damian began, interrupting Elle question.

"Why," Tim finished for him, "you fell down the stairs to the Batcave yesterday!"

Jason burst out laughing. "You fell down those fucking stairs and lived to tell about it?"

"We grabbed him, but not fast enough to prevent him from knocking himself out on the steps," Damian blurted.

Elle gasped, turning to him. "You fell down the steps and knocked yourself out? Oh my God! Let me see," she demanded, grabbing Dick's robe and tugging him to her. She started pawing at his hairline. "But why?" she asked as she searched and found a small bump just inside the hairline on the left side.

"Apparently, that's when you decided to fall out of helicopter," Dick replied dryly.

"And this ability appears to be growing stronger," Bruce murmured. "Tell her."

Elle looked back at Bruce, curiously, before turning back to Dick. "Tell me what?"

Dick sighed. "I got a glimpse of Roy as you fell," he tried to explain. "I felt the vertigo you felt on top of your fear and then I saw Roy leaning out of the helicopter. He was holding his hand out to you but he had let go and that's when you fell."

Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. "You saw all that?"

"That was all I saw. It was only a glimpse, however," he said. "I don't know if I might have seen more because that was about the time my head came into contact with the step."

"That's incredible! Papa never said anything about visions being possible between bonded pairs," Elle said, surprised. "I wonder if my grandparents have ever experienced something like that?"

"Okay," Tim interrupted her here, "so, no telepathy exactly. Sounds more like a type of empathic connection between the two of you, like something similar to what Raven experiences."

"Who's Raven?" Elle asked suspiciously.

"A Titan," Tim told her.

"Wait! Raven? Isn't she that one who attacked you guys at yours and Kori's wedding?" Elle exclaimed. "She killed the minister! Kori said she was a friend but with friends like that . . . I was afraid she was now an enemy of yours after that."

"No," Dick shook his head. "She's a teammate and a friend . . . Just a friend," he added quickly. "But there were times when she sort of . . . lost her way."

Jason snorted. "That's one way to put it, Dickhead!"

"Shut up, Jason! Raven wasn't in control that day. Look . . . I've forgiven her for what she did," Dick growled. He looked back at Elle. "I'll tell you about her some other time."

"You will?" She didn't sound completely convinced.

"Back on track," Bruce interrupted. "Needless to say there is probably a lot about each of your pasts that you should both share but right now we need to find a way to categorize the bond in a way that everyone here can understand."

Dick slumped back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair, wincing when he accidentally brushed the lump hidden there. "Good luck with that. We don't even understand it that well."

Elle bit her lip as she thought about it. Folding her hands on the table in front of her, she gave it her best shot. "Okay, here is what we know so far," she began. "I know you guys will probably have questions but I'll be honest, neither of us know all that much about it yet."

She waited until she got everyone's agreement before proceeding.

"The bond is kind of a link that has formed between us. It encompasses the emotional, physical, and spiritual. I guess you could define it like being soulmates. We can feel each other's emotions but we don't always know the reasons behind them. It doesn't exactly explain why we're feeling what we're feeling to the other person," she said.

Dick nodded. "When I felt Elle for the first time, we were separated by hundreds of miles but I didn't know what was wrong. I only knew that she was in danger and she needed me. That time in Bludhaven, when I was with you, Elle had just discovered her father had died. I felt her upset and her grief but didn't know what had caused it until someone told me. But even now, I don't know anything more than what emotions she is feeling at any given moment."

"Papa said that in time, the bond will allow us to feel the other person from anywhere on earth and even be able to track them using it. Unfortunately, that hasn't happened yet and we are limited to certain distances," Elle told them. "It has made some changes physically, I know, through our blood. Dick can take my blood now as well as A positive and O negative. I, however, am limited to relatives, such as my grandparents, other Atlantians, and now Dick's blood, although not from any other blood donors . . . including O negative. The universal blood type doesn't include partial Atlantians."

Dick grinned. "That has advantages, however. Elle has immunity to most human diseases and viruses and can heal from most injuries almost as fast as Wally or Barry can using the speed force. After being attacked by Nameless, I was given some of Elle's blood the hospital had stored for her use and it allowed me to heal exceptionally fast. It was why I looked better so much quicker than you, Jason, after our tussle on Christmas Eve."

Tim spoke up for the first time since the couple began explaining. "That sounds like an advantage to me."

"That's not all of it," Bruce said. "The bond has some major disadvantages as well. Tell them."

Elle winced and dropped her gaze. "Because of our connection, we need to be together. If we were to be apart for long periods of time, it can weaken us, make us ill."

"How long is a long period?" Tim asked them.

Dick shrugged. "Several weeks. Eventually, if we were apart for too long, Elle could even die from the separation."

" _No_ ," Damian yelled. " _You're lying_. _Why are you lying_?"

Dick looked at his little brother sadly. "I'm sorry. I wish I were, Little D, but it's true. We've," he gestured between them, "already experienced some of what it would feel like. It's not pleasant."

"Several weeks," Tim repeated. "That could mean three week or months."

"Three months," Dick told him. "According to Cedric Hamilton, twelve weeks would be the outer limit."

"C-Can you stop it?" Damian asked.

"The bond is permanent," she said told them softly. "Til death do us part kind of permanent."

"Hold on a minute! What does that mean exactly?" Tim asked. "Til death do you part."

Jason straightened in his chair. "Wait! Don't say it . . . Don't tell me . . ."

"If I were to die," Dick said, "Elle would die also."

" _What_?!" Damian asked abruptly.

Elle nodded. "But if I were to die first, it's still possible that Dick might be able to survive me. If he could be anchored here somehow, then he would live. But you would need to watch him because bondmates desire nothing more than to follow the other into the afterlife."

"Are you saying that Dickweed over there would try to _off_ himself if you died first?" Jason gaped at her.

"Dick would have to be placed on a suicide watch for an indefinite period of time," Bruce answered him.

"No, Bruce," Dick snapped. He put an arm around Elle's shoulders as he leaned forward to better address his father. "You _promised_ me."

Bruce shook his head slowly. "No, I _never_ promised that. You can't ask that of me."

"I _told_ you, if something happened to Elle, to let me go," Dick ground out.

Elle's face crumpled. Tears slipped from the corner of her eyes. "No, Dick, don't," she begged him. "Please. I don't want you to . . ."

"Baby, stop," Dick hushed her with a finger to her lips. "It's my decision to make. Somehow you've gotten it into your head that I would _want_ to live in a world without you but sweetheart, that's just not true. I told you, I will always come for you . . . I will follow you to the ends of the earth and beyond."

"Dick . . ." Elle shook her head.

"Where _you_ go, _I_ go," he said with finality.

She leaned her head into his shoulder and he held her. "I'm sorry," she sobbed.

"Sh," Dick hushed into her ear. "I'm not, Elle. I'm not sorry at all."

* * *

 **REACTIONS? Don't forget to review! :D**

 **I don't know about you guys, but I really missed this story. The good news is that I've been coming up with some new scenes for you as we get back to the fun side of things. You should be seeing a lot more of Dick and Elle in the coming weeks . . .**


	12. Speculations

**Warning: Some Language . . .**

* * *

"You awake?" Jason asked as he stuck his head around the door.

Bruce was standing at the large bay window and staring out at the moon glistening off of the water of Lake Michigan. This was truly a magnificent view. He could only imagine what the morning would bring.

He turned at Jason's voice. "I'm awake. Come in."

If he was surprised when Jason was followed in by Tim and Damian, he said nothing. There were two chair next to the fireplace. The fire that had been there was slowly burning down. Embers glowed red and occasionally there was a glimpse of a yellow flame. It wouldn't take much to bank it before Bruce finally turned in.

He walked over and turned one of the chairs to face the bed and Jason did the same with the other as Tim and Damian sprawled over the hunter green coverlet that dressed the mahogany, four-poster bedframe. The other furnishings matched the dark wood and the two chairs were a tan leather. It was definitely a man's room, masculine and comfortably appointed with rich furnishings. Together, he and Jason sat.

"Is that coffee?" Jason asked, gesturing to the cup on the small table between them. "No wonder you can't sleep."

"It's decaffeinated," Bruce told him. "I do believe that Franklin must be related to Alfred in some way. He didn't bother to inquire to my preference but took the liberty."

"Well, it _is_ two o'clock in the morning," Tim reminded them.

"Who cares about the coffee," Damian blurted. "Is it true? If Grayson dies, Elle will die, too? If she dies, will Grayson really _kill_ himself?"

Bruce sighed heavily. "You know the answer to that already, Damian. You were there in the Batcopter when we took her and Dick to the emergency room in Bludhaven."

Tim gaped. "They were bonded then, too? I thought Elle had injuries we didn't know of!"

Bruce shook his head. "The trapped air and blood around Dick's collapsed lung put too much pressure on his heart. When it stopped, Elle collapsed. Luckily we were arriving at the hospital when it happened but it was why I lied to the hospital staff and told them they were already married so I could insist that they continue life-saving measures until Dick could be stabilized."

"It was _that_ serious?" Jason asked softly. He hadn't realized.

"It was that serious," Bruce assured him. "He had already told me that if Elle died that night, that I allow him to follow her. If I didn't want him attempting to take his own life later, I knew I had to make sure that Elle revived as well."

Tim frowned. "Would he _really_ do that? Take his own life, I mean?"

"He had been serious enough with his request to convince me," Bruce admitted. "And you remember those three weeks in November when he stayed at the manor? He wasn't sick or depressed in the normal sense of the word. He and Elle had a misunderstanding and hadn't been speaking to each other during that time. Apparently, the bond had already begun by this time."

"Oh yeah, Dick looked really bad then, I remember," Tim nodded.

Jason leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "It's unbelievable. I want to accuse you all of trying to trick me."

Bruce looked at him. "For what purpose, Jason?"

"I don't know," he threw his hands up and straightened in his chair, "but that seemed . . ." He paused as he tried to put his thoughts into some sort of order. "This is worse than anything he had going on with Babs. Hell, even Kori! How do we know that this bond thing is really permanent? Maybe there's some way to break it?"

"You don't like Elle?" Bruce asked curiously.

Jason waved a hand. "It's not that. I like her fine but this kind of crap is messed up! Their lives are irrevocably entwined? It sounds like a really bad, pulp-fiction, romance novel."

"As far as I know, as it was explained to me, there is no breaking it without killing Elle outright and risking Dick's life. Even if he survived her death, he would pine for her to such an extent that he crave nothing more than to follow her to the grave."

"Who explained it to you?" Tim asked. "Maybe they were lying or . . . or they didn't know for sure?"

"Aquaman explained it to Dick and me at the same time," Bruce told them.

"Aquaman knows Elle?" Jason frowned.

"He didn't at the time. He met her later that night, however," Bruce said. "Elle is descended from an ancient and powerful race of Atlantian. What Aquaman told us was from books he had once read about these particular people."

"What race is this?" Damian asked. "I thought all Atlantians were the same."

"No," Tim answered him. "There are races within the Atlantian people. Aquaman has gills as did Aqualad, I've heard, although he had quit the Teen Titans before I came along. I never met him personally. Elle breathes underwater though through her skin."

"Okay," Damian rolled his eyes. He had no interest in Aqualad. "So, what race, then, is Elle?"

Bruce hesitated.

"Oh no," Jason noticed the pause. "If you know, you have to tell us, Bruce. You heard her. No secrets from the family."

She had said that but Bruce had felt Elle's own hesitancy when making that statement. She hadn't wanted to spill everything to them. What he knew was limited. He knew that Elle had been in touch with Aquaman since he had learned most of this, so she was bound to know more about the people she came from. How much more, he didn't know, since most of what Arthur had known was likely just as much hearsay as fact.

"They are called Sirens," he finally told them. "They are the basis for all those mermaids' tales you grew up hearing about."

"Mermaids, huh? For real?" Jason snorted. "Beautiful, singing fish-women . . . I suppose that makes a weird kind of sense. She's a singer, after all."

"Mermaids that lured men and ships to their doom," Tim finished. "Mermaids weren't actually all that nice in those fairy tales."

"Apparently, neither are they in reality," Bruce admitted. "They are very powerful with a magic that was as old as the Atlantian race. They are considered to be manipulative and are greatly feared. The history books Arthur read said that they had been hunted to near extinction and the few that survived were banished to the out reaches of the kingdom. They are a dying breed now. Elle and her grandmother are likely the last female Sirens in existence."

"Uh oh," Jason eyes widened. "That can't be good. Dickhead and Elle might be in for a shitload of trouble if word of her existence gets out."

Damian scowled at Jason. "Why's that?"

Jason gaped at him. "Hello? Their race is dying? They might want to revive the population, you know?"

Tim shook his head. "Elle wouldn't do that and Dick wouldn't allow it, not even to save a race."

"Would they even be interested in a half breed like Elle is?" Damian asked.

Tim shoved Damian's face into the coverlet. "Hey! Don't be rude!"

"Get off," Damian rolled out of Tim's reach. "I wasn't saying it to be insulting!"

Bruce was frowning, however. This was why Dick was adamant that Arthur not tell those brothers about Elle's existence. They were the last of their kind and with no female Sirens, they have been docile, not making trouble. But if they could breed with other females, non-Siren, why did they not try that? Would they want a half-breed like Elle? What problems would her being bonded to a surface dweller create? Bruce would feel better about keeping Elle's existence quiet. Jason was right. They didn't need the trouble.

"They may not be interested in someone they consider a half-breed, but to be on the safe side, Dick has asked Arthur to keep Elle a secret," Bruce told them.

"Good," Damian declared. "They can't have her!"

"Especially considering the existence of the bond," Tim reasoned. "Would they be interested in a woman who is already attached to someone else? I mean, even if they were able to get rid of Dick, they would lose Elle in the process, right? She should be safe enough from them, shouldn't she?"

Bruce nodded. "Safe enough from the Sirens . . ." Something clicked suddenly inside his head. "But there is someone else out there that is interested in Elle. The one who wants her dead. Someone who understands that, even if they couldn't reach her personally, they could take out Dick and kill Elle in the bargain."

He glanced up as Tim sat up on the bed. Jason turned in his seat towards him as he, too, made the connection.

"The person behind the contract is an Atlantian?" Jason blurted.

"How can you know for sure," Damian asked. He didn't know as much about the Atlantians.

"Sirens are feared," Tim replied, remembering what they had all just learned. "You said that they are powerful and manipulative, and other Atlantians actively hunted them. The Sirens that are left are banned from the rest of the kingdom." He looked at the others. "Maybe an Atlantian knows of Elle's existence and wants to kill her in order to prevent the possibility of renewing the Siren population."

"Could someone fear her that much? I mean she's only a little bit Siren," Jason rubbed a hand over his jaw as he ran the idea through his mind. "Does Elle have those powers that other Sirens have?"

Bruce shook his head. "She can influence people only in that she can project her own emotions."

"How so?" Tim asked, intrigued.

"It is mostly through song but I've witnessed her calming you and Damian down with just her speaking voice," Bruce admitted reluctantly. "In the hospital, she was upset and everyone in hearing range ended up weeping with her. I think that is why her father wanted her to join the family business. She would make an excellent negotiator."

"She can manipulate us?" Damian sat up.

"She doesn't do it intentionally, Damian," Bruce told him. "It is an innate talent and she uses it instinctively. If she could truly influence people to do what she says, Nameless would never have stood a chance against her. She can promote certain feelings based upon her own emotions at the time but if a person has a strong will, he or she will not be affected or the effect will be negligible."

Jason snorted. "That explains a few things."

"But an Atlantian may not know that," Tim reminded them of his theory. "He might believe that destroying Elle would be saving Atlantis from a resurgence in the Siren population."

"But how would they have found out?" Damian asked. "You said only Aquaman knows about Elle."

"Would Aquaman order her death, do you think?" Jason asked suddenly.

Bruce frowned. He had known the Atlantian king for years. They weren't close, not like the friendship Bruce shared with Clark and Diana, but would he betray Bruce like this and order an innocent's death, knowing that to do so would also lead to the death of Bruce's own son in the process? But then the contract, they knew, included Dick in it. Whoever this was, he or she was taking no chances.

The attack on Elle and Dick in Bludhaven had been several weeks after Arthur had learned of her existence . . . He _could_ have . . . Bruce shook his head. He didn't want to consider that possibility! Perhaps Arthur had mentioned Elle to another. He knew for a fact that Arthur's wife, Mera, knew that Elle was a Siren. Mera would do anything to protect her husband rule and Atlantis itself. Could she have put the contract out?

His teeth creaked as he ground his jaw in anger. This made sense. It made too much sense to be ignored. If Bruce tried to contact Arthur again, it was likely that the Atlantian king would answer his summons a lot faster than he had the last time Batman had contacted him. Unwilling to call Aquaman or Mera's friendship into question on a hunch, Batman waved Jason's question away for now.

"Aquaman saved Elle's life once by offering her his blood," Batman clung to this reasoning until he could check into this more thoroughly. "He had his chance to let her die but didn't take it. I have to believe that he is on our side in this."

"So, does that mean you _don't_ think it was an Atlantian?" Jason asked suspiciously. He obviously thought this was their best lead. "Or that it wasn't Aquaman himself behind the contract out on them?"

"I'm not ruling it out but I would feel much better if we could bring in Deadshot for questioning," Bruce told them.

Jason scoffed. "Lawton won't give up his contact."

Bruce's jaw clenched tight. "We'll just have to see about changing his mind, then, won't we?"

"We'll find him," Damian declared.

And they would . . . but would they find him before he tried again? That was the million-dollar question, wasn't it?

* * *

The house was quiet when Elle slipped out of her and Dick's room and she padded silently down the hall. She had dozed on and off until she was certain Dick was asleep. Glancing at the guest rooms doors further down the hall, Elle could see no evidence that there were any lights on beneath them. Everyone was asleep finally.

She moved down the steps quickly. Dick didn't sleep well without her. He had proven this was a fact many times over and she wanted to return to their bed before he woke to an empty room. She moved through the foyer in the direction of her father's office. . . Her office, she corrected herself. She was nearly there when a shadow rounded the corner near the family room.

She gasped but then Hugh stepped into the square of moonlight.

"Oh my God," she breathed. "You scared the life out of me!"

Hugh frowned at her and checked his watch. "It's four o'clock in the morning. What are you doing up? Didn't your snack tide you over?"

"Heard us talking, did you?" she asked.

He laughed. "You showed no interest in all of those men your father foisted on you for all those special events and this is the family you choose to align yourself with?"

The darkness hid the face she made at him. "Yes, it is," she remarked. "Although the bond had a certain hand in it, I am happy."

Hugh stepped closer and looked down on her. The easy affection between them was obvious. "You love him."

Elle nodded. "With everything in me."

"Just making sure," he told her. "You didn't appear all that enamored with him last night."

"I was angry. He was engaged to two other women before me," she admitted. "He didn't bother to tell me about it. I found the engagement ring he had kept from one of them and the alien princess that followed us home was the other one. I found out about her today."

Hugh whistled, and Elle shushed him.

He grinned. "How'd you find that out?"

Elle made another disgusted face. "She told me."

He chuckled. "Ouch! That had to be awkward."

"Awkward?" Elle gaped at him. "Did you not see her?"

"Kind of hard not to," he admitted. "She's a looker alright. Have you seen the other one?"

Elle blew out her breath and shoved a hand through her hair in annoyance. "Yes. I met her at a party on New Year's Eve."

"So?"

"So . . . What?" Elle blinked at him as she moved around him and into her office.

Hugh followed her in and closed the door behind him. "So, is she as hot as the warrior princess?"

Elle flicked her desk light on. "Quite lovely," she wrinkled her nose. Jealousy did not sit well with her. "She was a redhead as well."

Hugh snorted. "I think I'm seeing a theme here."

"Oh, shut up," Elle snapped. "There is no theme. I don't have red hair and I'm nowhere near as tall as either of them . . . Although Miss Gordon is now wheelchair bound."

Hugh lifted an eyebrow. This surprised him. "He left her after she was put in a wheelchair?"

"Oh, don't look like that," Elle mumbled. "That wasn't the reason they broke up. She apparently dumped him."

"Ooh," Hugh made a hissing noise. "Unrequited love? Double ouch! No wonder you've been so out of sorts lately."

Elle looked up in exasperation. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

Hugh check his watch again. "Not at the moment. I just finished walking the perimeter and double checking the entry points. I'm not scheduled to wake Edward until five so I'm all yours. Why are you in here at this ungodly hour by yourself, if I might inquire?"

"I found out the name of the guy who shot my helicopter pilot," she told him. "Don't let me forget in the morning to call his family and send my condolences. I need to check and see who he might have left behind. I can set up scholarships for any minor children and help with the funeral expenses. I don't want his widow to have to worry about anything."

Hugh moved to the desk. "Who is he?" he demanded. "What's the bastard's name?"

Elle had just moved the phone in front of her when she paused, glancing up at Hugh's angry face. "For what purpose? Do you or Edward plan to track him down? Do you think to kill him for me?"

"It wouldn't be more than he deserves," Hugh growled, "so yeah, I'd like to do my part to introduce him to God."

"He's a professional assassin," she told him. "I'd just as soon as keep you alive."

Hugh scowled and leaned over the desk on his fists. "You don't think I could take him?"

"You are very good at what you do, Hugh, you and Edward both. You are two of the best in the field, in fact. That is why you both were hired and why I keep you on," Elle said, honestly.

Hugh's face softened. "Not because you love me?"

Elle smiled. "Maybe a little bit."

"More than Edward?" he asked hopefully.

Elle laughed. "Stop it! I take it back. I don't love either of you. I should fire you both and find young, attractive, retired Navy Seals to protect me."

Hugh slapped a hand over his heart and staggered back dramatically. "Navy? You wound me, Miss Bella, to the very quick! Army Rangers can kick those boys' asses around the world and back."

She grinned. "I watched movie that claimed they were the best of the best of the best."

He snorted derisively. "And what movie would that be?"

Elle shrugged a shoulder. "Men in Black, I think it was. I'm not sure now. I was too taken with one of the stars to really pay attention."

Hugh's eyebrow rose. "Really? Do tell? Was he tall, dark, and handsome?"

"He was short, round, and a pug. Talked with a New York City accent."

Hugh laughed. "The dog? You're hopeless, Bella. I'm surprised Grayson managed to catch your attention at all."

Elle smirked. "I couldn't help but notice him. After all, there's no dogs allowed in the club to distract me."

Hugh waved at her. "Hurry up whatever you're doing and go back to bed, Bella. I'm going to check the cameras and drag Edward's ass out of bed."

He was still grinning when he walked out and left her alone.

She waited until the door closed again before dialing the number. It didn't take more than two rings for him to answer.

"Hamilton," Aiden barked into the phone. He didn't even sound as though she woke him.

"Aiden," she said.

"Bella? Kind of early for you, isn't it?"

She could hear sounds of movement in the background like he was sitting up on the side of the bed. So, she did wake him.

"I'm doing you a favor," she told him. "The name of the assassin that shot my pilot in a bid to kill me yesterday is called Deadshot. He's also known as Floyd Lawton. That's L-a-w-t-o-n. He's not the same one who tried to kill me a couple of weeks ago. I still don't know _his_ name, but perhaps Lawton can clue you in."

"How'd you find this out?" Aiden asked her.

"Magic," Elle answered sarcastically. "What does it matter? I just saved you a step. You're welcome."

She hung up the phone and flopped back in the leather chair. She felt exhausted, like she had just run a marathon. Aiden always did that to her. Like as not, he always would. But if she were lucky he would succeed at this and they could split their father's companies and go their separate ways. And then maybe she could get on with living her life.

Her eyes looked up at the dark wood panels and beams in the ceiling as if she could see Dick where he waited for her in her bed. Their lives . . . she corrected herself with a soft smile. It was time to start their life together. She shoved the phone back to its place and stood up.

And there was no better time than the present . . .

* * *

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	13. Best Man

**Warning: Some Language . . .**

* * *

"You know you could have the wedding here," Bruce suggested as he walked down the stairs with Dick. "It would be safer."

"We will have located Deadshot before the date Elle and I settled on," Dick reassured him. "Safety won't be an issue."

"That doesn't make the suggestion any less valid," Bruce told him. "We have plenty of room. The ballroom is large enough and it wouldn't take an excessive amount of work to set up the pool house for a reception or vice versa if Elle would prefer that."

"She wants a church wedding and has given me a specific list of places she wants me to check out," Dick sighed. "You know, I thought the women did all this organizing. I never had to do a damned thing but show up for Kori's and my wedding."

Bruce clapped Dick on the shoulder in a gesture of male sympathy. "I think this one will be a lot larger than anything you and Kori had planned."

Dick paused and turned to face the man who had been so much to him. "The one thing that I'm very glad of is that you'll be at this one. I look back and . . ." he ran a hand through his hair in agitation. "I don't know what I was thinking back then. I was in such a hurry. My life was in shambles at the time. Hardly conducive to a successful start to any marriage."

"And this time is better?" Bruce asked gently.

"Things are . . . hectic, I suppose," Dick admitted.

"Hectic?"

He smiled. "It _is_ different this time," Dick assured him. "I know what I want. With Kori, I was afraid of losing her at the time and things were . . . I don't know, messed up. I-I just was anxious to fix everything and that seemed the most convenient way to do it. That was wrong. I can see that now. But I also can see now that I would have forever regretted not having you be there to stand up with me."

"Of course, I'll be there for you, Dick," Bruce told him.

"As my best man," Dick blurted out quickly.

Bruce blinked. For anyone else, the reaction might as well have been a gasp of shock. "But you have Wally . . . And there's Roy . . ."

"And they are both my best _friends_ ," Dick nodded. "They always will be and then there is Jason and Tim . . . and Damian. They are _all_ important to me, you're right, but Bruce . . . You've been my guardian, taking me in after my parents died when you didn't have to . . ."

"Dick," Bruce held up a hand to stop him.

"This is more than gratitude, Bruce," Dick interrupted the other man's objection. "You were my mentor. You've done more than anyone else in this world to shape me into the man I've become. You trained me and allowed me to become your partner in your war on crime. I don't know if I ever told you how much that meant to me back then but it still means the world to me."

"I don't tell you often enough," Bruce clasped Dick's neck and pulled him closer, "but I'm very proud of the man you've become. I look at you and think that maybe, in _you_ , I find my redemption. You are the one thing I haven't manage to screw up . . ." he smiled, "although not for lack of trying."

"But more than all of that, Bruce," Dick continued before he could choke up. He needed to get this out. "You've been my father."

This time the startlement was noticeable. "Dick . . ."

"No, don't interrupt," Dick admonished firmly. "I've never forgotten my parents, Bruce, and I never will. I love them with all my heart, but you stepped into that role whether you meant to or not. The fact is, you've been my father twice as long as John Grayson had been." Dick licked his lips. "When you adopted me a few years ago, I couldn't tell you then how happy you made me. There were no words. I know that I don't use the Wayne at the end of my name now very often but it isn't because I'm embarrassed or ashamed of you. I-I love you, Bruce . . . just as much as I ever loved either of my parents."

Bruce stared at him, speechless. Dick had said something similar before once but never as clearly as he was now. Bruce never wanted to take the place of John Grayson but he was sincerely grateful to the man for the honor of raising Dick. He had long thought of the boy as his own son and now the boy was a man. Dick knew him better than perhaps anyone else in the world aside for Alfred. Bruce remembered the vow he had asked that boy to pledge so long ago and, in all the years he had known him, Dick had never once forsaken it.

"For all that Wally and Roy are my friends and Jason, Tim, and Damian are my brothers, they are not my _best_ man," Dick told him earnestly. "That's _you_. It has always been you, Bruce, and I think that it always will be. I need you with me as I do this. Say yes . . . _Please_."

Bruce squeezed his son's shoulder firmly and nodded just once. "It would be my _honor_ and a privilege to stand up with you, son."

Dick took a deep breath and let it out, and then he grinned. He grabbed Bruce and pulled him into a hug, slapping the older man's back as he laughed.

"Thank you, Bruce," he said as he pulled back. "This means a lot to me. You cannot know . . ."

Bruce snorted. "I never could say no to you," he shook his head as he moved across the foyer once more. "It's those damned puppy-dog eyes of yours."

Dick laughed in disbelief as he moved to catch up. "That's news to me," he objected. "I can remember a dozen times easily where you've told me no."

"That was different," Bruce told him over his shoulder. He pulled open the front door and stepped out. "I didn't want you getting hurt those times. Your safety was a factor. But all those _other_ times . . ." he sighed.

Dick gaped at him as he yanked the door shut behind him. "I wish that I had known. I'd have asked for a hell of a lot more stuff."

Bruce laughed. "I can count on one hand how many times you've asked for something. I would have been happy to have given you anything . . . _everything_ that money could buy but you never were a materialistic child. You have no idea of my frustration every birthday and Christmas."

Alfred had pulled the limo to the front and Hugh and Edward stood on either side of the car door waiting for them. Elle's idea of protecting Dick while he was in his civilian personae. He had Jason and Tim and Roy still following her while she shopped with her girlfriends, he supposed he could allow her bodyguards to tag along. But if anything did happen, it would put a crimp in his and Bruce's ability to go after whoever it was taking potshots at him.

He couldn't help but wonder how long it would take the two men to become suspicious if they hung around the manor for any length of time.

* * *

"I have millions of dollars at my disposal," Elle grumbled, "you'd think I would be able to have my dream wedding."

Jason had stationed himself between the group of women and the exit, leaning against one of the building supports and crossing his arms. He looks like a sentinel of old, austere and severe. The man was not happy to be escorting the group as they shopped around for bridesmaids' and wedding dresses. It didn't matter that Tim and Roy were sharing the chore with him, _they_ got to scout outside the building while he was stuck in here.

They had been at it for six hours and if Elle was feeling a little bit grouchy, Jason was positively cantankerous. Shoppers and clerks alike avoided their side of the store as Jason lounged, angry and surly, at his guard post.

"Did you really think you would be able to find a designer dress a mere month before the wedding, sweetie?" Randi asked as they browsed. The lively, rowdy exuberance of the morning had given way to an afternoon of indifference.

"I never said that," Elle replied. "I was just kind of hoping . . ."

"What were you hoping?" Randi looked at her curiously.

"I don't know," Elle lifted a shoulder half-heartedly. "That the right dress would have been easier to find. I didn't expect it to be this stressful." This was their thirteenth dress shop in those six hours. "At least we already found the bridesmaids' dresses."

"I think we ate too much at lunch," Jasmine complained. "I hope I can still fit in mine."

Shannon hiccupped. "I think that maybe I shouldn't have had that third Long-Island iced tea."

Randi rounded on the blonde. "Are you drunk?"

Shannon made a face at her. "I'm not drunk! It takes more than that to get me sloshed. I just should have eaten more than that salad. I skipped breakfast, you know."

Elle looked up from the dozens of wedding dresses on the rack in front of her. "You're not dieting, are you?"

Shannon shrugged. "I wanted to look nice. Bruce Wayne is bound to have rich friends attending and maybe some 'other' sons still on the market . . ." She looked longingly over her shoulder at Jason's back.

Elle snorted, and slapped a hand over her mouth and nose, dipping down below the line of dresses to hide her laughter. Shannon shoved the dresses apart to glare at her.

"What? Don't you think he would like a girl like me?" she demanded to know.

If Shannon's eyes did look a little glassy, Elle ignored it. She didn't mind being the designated driver, especially when she wasn't the one who was actually driving. She grinned at her friend.

"Oh, sweetie," she smirked quietly. "Of course he would, but Jason's got more hang-ups than a telemarketer. Tell you what, I'll introduce you to a few people at the reception that you should go for."

Jasmine pushed aside a few dresses and poked her head through. "I expect the same treatment from you, you know."

"Ladies," Randi looked at them from above the rack. "There won't _be_ a reception if we don't find the bride a dress."

Elle straightened up and glanced around her at the miles of white taffetas and tulles.

"And you guys thought I would find it _here_ ," she asked, "at Brides-R-Us Discount Warehouse?"

"My cousin Jeanine found her dress here," Shannon declared.

Jasmine rolled her eyes. "Elle isn't looking in the maternity section."

Randi ignored the two as she searched the rack in front of her for something with potential. Elle watched the two friends with amusement. Their taunts and teasing could sound cutting to anyone not knowing them but the two women actually enjoyed tossing insults back and forth. Neither ever seemed to take offense to what others might call fighting words.

Shannon pulled a dress off the rack and held it up. "Ooh, I like this one! What about this one, Elle?"

The dress in question had a plunging cleavage and stopped mid-thigh. It had to weigh fifty pounds so loaded was it with rhinestones and sequins. Elle thought she might have underwear that covered more flesh.

"Ah . . . No," she said with finality.

Shannon looked at the dress in her hand critically. "What's wrong with it?"

Jasmine answered. "Nothing, if she doesn't mind her guests thinking that her groom is marrying a hooker."

Shannon defended her choice. "You're just jealous that I have better taste. This is modern and fun and flirty . . ."

Randi interrupted. "Shannon, flirty is batting your eyelashes at a man. That dress says 'for twenty buck more, your friend can watch'."

Shannon shoved the dress back with a huff. "It would help if we knew what we were looking for," she muttered. "You haven't found _anything_ that you've liked today, Elle?"

"I've found plenty that I've liked, but I'm getting _married_! It can't just be any old thing, you understand. I have to love it!" Just like any bride, Elle told them, "It has to be _perfect_."

Jasmine pulled out a dress and slid the hanger over her neck, letting the gown drape over her front. "What about this one?"

She stood at the end of the row and modeled it. It was strapless with a sweetheart neckline but from the waist down looked as though she was wearing a cloud, a very large cloud. The skirt was layers upon layers of ruffled tulle.

Elle was shaking her head. "That skirt looks like it could hide four grown adults under it."

Jasmine held out the skirt and twirled. "It makes me feel like a princess!"

Elle looked at her suspiciously. "How many drinks did _you_ have with lunch?"

Jasmine laughed as she hung the gown back on the rack. "Only two and they really were just iced tea."

"So what are your preferences?" Randi asked as she browsed the gowns in her section.

After a moment, Elle answered. "Sleeves would be nice. It's still winter in Gotham."

"Well, that narrows it down by a lot," Jasmine commented. "About three-quarters of these dresses are strapless."

Randi lifted a gown from the rack next. "This one has sleeves. Don't know how warm they would keep you; they're lace."

Elle considered the gown. It was less gaudy than the previous dresses but form-fitting. "Better," she said. "Lace sleeves are better than nothing. Less bling is good as well. Something simple. Traditional with a modern edge. Romantic without miles of tulle. Oh, and a detachable train. That's important."

Her three bridesmaids exchanged looks.

"Okay, spread out," Randi ordered. "This place boasts ten thousand gowns in stock and it's already two o'clock."

* * *

"How many are left on your list?" Bruce asked as Alfred pulled out into traffic once more.

"One," Dick muttered.

He sat with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. They had spent nearly the entire day searching for a church that met the specifications that Elle had requested. Two had come near but, of course, were already booked. Bruce volunteered to assist the couple if they would be willing to change their wedding venue, but Dick wanted to check all the churches first. No sense in bribing a couple to wed elsewhere if the church wouldn't do.

Edward smirked from where he sat across from them. Hugh rode shotgun with Alfred. He was used to days like this. Although Bella hadn't been a particularly troublesome child, when she decided on something, nothing else would do. He and Hugh had often accompanied her younger self on searches for items or venues that fit her specifications. Thank God, she hadn't been difficult to please for long but Edward had memories of Bella at the onset of puberty. Those had been trying times, indeed.

"If it doesn't suit, you should speak with her first before making a decision," Edward suggested helpfully. "She isn't the kind to settle easily if her heart is set on something."

Bruce looked over at him curiously. "I have a hard time imagining Elle as spoiled."

"She might have been. Her father was doting," Edward admitted. "But she wasn't especially materialistic. But there were times, however, when she could be described as persistent and exacting. Because she was so easy to deal with the rest of the time, it wasn't hard to find yourself going out of your way to see that she got what she wanted on those few times when nothing else would do."

Dick smiled. "You definitely have her pegged."

"How long have you been with the family," Bruce asked.

"I worked as her mother's bodyguard from the time of their wedding until Bella was born, then I was assigned to her. Hugh came on after the . . . accident that killed her mother." Edward didn't look at them as he said this. It was clear that he still blamed himself that Cedric Hamilton had nearly lost the both of them that day. "That happened during my day off, otherwise, I would have been driving them. Someone else should have been assigned to them."

Bruce frowned. "And why didn't that happen?"

Edward's mouth tightened. "I've never been completely satisfied with the whys behind the mistakes that were made that day."

"You say that as if you suspect that the accident wasn't an accident," Bruce noted.

Dick looked over at Edward. "You believe it wasn't an accident, don't you?"

"The so-called experts claim the damage to the car was done when it fell into the sea but from what I saw, it appeared as though someone had slammed into the car and forced it off of the road," Edward muttered. "The investigation had been botched. Like I said, mistakes were made . . ."

"And what about after Elle told her story?" Dick asked.

"Bella was in the hospital for a while; she told me that she didn't remember much about that day," Edward told them. "As you must know by now, Bella heals exceptionally fast. She was in the hospital for three weeks. For Bella, that was unheard of, but she had a head wound and was unconscious for two days once she was rescued as well as having various other injuries." His jaw tightened at the memories. "No one understands how she survived it. Even with her ability to breathe underwater, Bella should have succumbed to her injuries. Mr. Hamilton kept her name out of the papers, so the newspapers nicknamed her 'Mireya' . . . It means miracle."

"Hugh came on after that," Dick said.

"Hugh came on _because_ of that," Edward said, nodding. He smiled then. "Hugh was this rough, tough, Army Ranger. One of the best, by all accounts, and his slew of medals seem to confirm this. He walked into that hospital room and . . ." the man smirked, "immediately fell head over heels in love with Bella. She's had a couple of close calls since that time with a few lowlifes trying to get to her father or brother through her. Hugh even took a bullet for her once."

"Your dedication to your primary is to be commended," Bruce said. "Have either of you ever been tempted to move on?"

"Never," Edward shook his head firmly. "Didn't you hear me, Mr. Wayne? It was love at first sight. Hugh, when he met her at seven and me, the first time I saw her in her mother's arms after she was born. She's a lot more like . . . a favorite niece, I guess. We would die for Bella and that isn't just because it's in the job description."

Bruce frowned again. "Then why are you two here and not with Elle now?"

Edward sighed, crossing his arms and feet at the ankles as he relaxed a bit in his seat. "Because Bella is our employer, too. She insisted we look after Mr. Grayson. We agreed because of two reasons. One is because of the bond. Protecting you," he nodded at Dick, "is protecting Bella."

"And the second reason?" Dick asked this time.

"She occasionally remembers that we are employees and not family," Edward smirked. "She ordered us to accompany you. We might have mutinied but your brothers and that archer friend of theirs went with her. They saved her in Chicago against all odds." He looked directly at Dick. "You have some impressive friends; I have to say."

Dick was saved from commenting as Alfred pulled into another church parking lot. It was the last one on Elle's list, a Protestant church. Odd, but he didn't know Elle's belief system. That bothered him a little. Religion was such an important part of people's life; how did he not know this fundamental bit of information? All he was sure of was that she did believe in something greater than herself.

Dick was raised Catholic by his parents until he was eight. They weren't practicing exactly. The circus moved too often for his parents to be devout but they had tried to instill in him certain mores and ideals. They stuck with him, for the most part, in the back of his mind. Although Dick remembered and respected the church but he hadn't stepped into a church before today except for the occasional wedding or funeral. It could be considered ironic that he had entered more churches today than he had in sixteen years he had lived with Bruce and when he did, it was for the occasion of his own wedding.

Bruce, he knew, was agnostic. While his adopted father didn't completely discount the idea of a creator god, _he worked with a goddess, after all_ , Bruce felt it wasn't something that anyone could truly know. Dick was torn between his parents' teachings and Bruce's logical approach to what he considered the unknowable.

Because Elle was insisting on a church wedding, it stood to reason that she believed in an omnipotent god. Dick glanced back at the list in his hand. Of those churches on the list, there were only two listed that were of the same denomination. Whatever Elle believed, she didn't apparently subscribe to any particular persuasion of Christianity. He worried a little, wondering if his own rather confused ideas would create a problem in renting the building.

Shoving the list into his coat pocket, first he had to determine whether or not the church met Elle's specifications. If it didn't, then this might all be moot and they would be married in the manor's ball room. He moved forward, his shoes crunching on the salt strewn sidewalk, all the snow from the other day now melted. Bruce was at his elbow and Edward took up his other side while Hugh had his back. All three men were taller than him so no one bothered to shove his head down for which he was enormously grateful. He wasn't used to being on the other side of the protection equation and he hated it.

But he wouldn't risk Elle's life . . . any more than she would willingly risk his.

A twinge moved inside his chest. He hadn't been out as Nightwing yet, not since he had gotten out of the hospital. He was going to have to rethink this whole thing. He already knew he couldn't give up that part of his life but then his life was no longer just his own. How to do this? How to continue the mission without risking Elle's life in the process?

They opened the door to the front of the church, a large, heavy, carved oak by the look of it, stained dark. Beautiful . . . The artisans that carved the door must have been men of deep faith for it was obviously a work of love. The two-story vestibule was built of a matte stone; not the shiny, rich marble of the other churches and cathedrals they had visited before but it wasn't any less impressive for it. Stone stairs wound up either side of the entrance leading up to a balcony level.

A balcony . . . That was high on Elle's list of necessary features but would it wrap around the sanctuary as she wanted it to? Gothic arched doors led off to parts unknown under the stairs and in front were another set of double doors that led into the main part of the church: the sanctuary. Dick opened the doors and caught his breath.

The sanctuary rose up to magnificent heights, easily three stories. The balcony did indeed extend the length of the sanctuary on either side. Stained glass depicted different scenes from the Bible in bold bright colors than decorated the interior with patterns of colored light both below and above the balcony. There were four rows of pews, two long rows and two shorter rows that were situated beneath either balcony. The floor, support columns, and walls were all the same stone of the vestibule and a deep red carpet lined the aisles leading to a three-story altar on a raised dais.

Although the designs that decorated the church were simple in comparisons to the more ornate churches Dick had been in earlier, it was no less impressive. Its lines were clean in comparison. It was decorated instead by its windows and the prismatic dancing light. The dais was quite large and rose up three steps, separated from the congregation by a low rail. A baptistry appeared high and against the rear wall with a carved, stylized cross hung above. There was an organ on one side and a grand piano on the other. The pulpit was raised higher and was off to one side. The choir loft was above the area on either side where the balconies culminated.

This was, Dick thought, exactly what Elle had been searching for.

"What do you think," Bruce asked him quietly. "The architecture is quite pleasing."

Bruce's voice resounded off of the stone around them. Dick grinned. The acoustics were fantastic. Elle would love this place.

"It's perfect," Dick declared.

"God is perfect, my son," a short, stocky man with blond, graying hair replied as he stepped out of an unobtrusive doorway in one corner of the sanctuary. He looked to be in his late forties/early fifties. "This is merely a building."

Dick smiled. "I merely meant that it is perfect for my fiancée's needs. She . . . and I, that is, _we_ were hoping that we might be married here."

The minister stopped in front of them. "You may call me Bishop Matthews. You are not members of this congregation," he noted. "Do you attend worship elsewhere?"

"Yes," Bruce interrupted Dick. "But this will be a reasonably large affair and we needed a larger venue to accommodate the guests, you understand. Will that be a problem?"

Dick kept his expression neutral to hide his surprise. Edward and Hugh didn't know enough about them to realize that Bruce just lied through his teeth . . . Inside of a church, no less! And Dick merely smiled calmly and nodded. He was so going to hell for this.

The minister nodded his understanding and smiled serenely. Thankfully no booming voice had informed on them, announcing that they were fakers. The floor hadn't opened up and swallowed them whole. So far, so good.

"I suppose that would depend upon the when," he answered. "We are booked, I'm afraid, up until the fall of next year."

Dick's shoulders slumped. "This would be for the first weekend in March . . . This year."

"The couple that were scheduled on that date," Bruce began. "Do you think they would be receptive to negotiation?"

"Ah, that is not for me to say, Mr. Wayne," the minister told him.

"You know who I am?"

"I do. I realize that a man with your means is used to getting his own way but . . ." the minister started to say.

"It's just that time is a factor," Bruce interrupted and the pastor's eyes widened slightly.

Dick slapped a hand over his face at the inadvertent insinuation. "It's not like that, sir . . . Um, Bishop Matthews, sir. My fiancée's father left her a substantial inheritance and the will is being contested by her brother. He is a man of . . . rather ruthless ambitions. He hopes to call my fiancée's competence into question and take over her inheritance. It is likely, if he is made her guardian, that he could lock her away. If we were married before the trial, even if he was allowed to take her inheritance away from her, he wouldn't become her guardian."

 _Did that sound like the plot of some dime-store novel_? Eyebrows rose as Dick's explanation went on. What must the man be thinking?

"That _is_ a problem," Bishop Matthews agreed. "Have you considered a civil wedding?"

Dick sighed. "Elle . . . That's my fiancée. She has her heart set on a church wedding," he told him. "Normally, this wouldn't be a problem but with the time crunch . . . It just seems unfair that she would be denied her dream wedding because her brother is an asshole." Dick's mouth dropped open the instant it was out. "Uh . . . I'm sorry, Bishop! I shouldn't have said that. I'm just very frustrated. I apologize."

The bishop waved Dick's apology away. "I can understand, under the circumstances. I am sorry that I cannot be of more help but, even if the day was free, I would need to speak with you both as a couple first. I cannot take the chance that the brother might be correct and the young woman involved incapable of making a decision as monumental as marriage. Please, do not take offense, but I would owe it to the young woman in question to be certain she was not being taken advantage of by unscrupulous men."

Dick stiffened in response but Bruce laid a calming hand on his shoulder. "You need to see for yourself," Bruce interjected. "That seems a reasonable enough request."

"It makes no difference, I'm afraid," the minister told him. "The date is already booked for another party. They requested it more than a year prior. It wouldn't be right for me to ask them to move their date for the sake of another couple. There isn't another opening, like I said, for another year and a half."

"What are the couple's names," Bruce asked. "Perhaps they might change their minds if I offered to finance their wedding elsewhere. I'm sure, just starting out, they finances might be a little tight."

"I'm sorry but I am not permitted to give out that information," the bishop said. "However, if the couple should change their minds, I will be the first to call you. I wish you good luck and I will definitely keep you in my prayers."

"Of course," Bruce said quickly, before Dick could respond. "We thank you for your time and would appreciate it if you kept my son and his fiancée in mind should anything come up. Your church is quite lovely."

They exited without a word.

"Well, that was anticlimactic," Dick huffed, his breath crystalizing in front of him in the cold winter's air. "I don't even need to ask Elle's opinon. I knew the moment I saw it that this church is exactly the one she is looking for. Elle would love it."

Bruce didn't comment but did glance over his shoulder at the soaring stone edifice behind them, thoughtfully.

Alfred opened the door. "And how did it go, sirs. You were in there longer than you were in the previous churches."

Hugh slapped Dick on the shoulder in sympathy. "Sorry about that. So, a church wedding is out. I'm sure that Bella would be happy enough saying her vows anywhere. It's the bride and the groom that are important. Everything else is just gravy."

"Oh dear," Alfred moaned sympathetically as Dick climbed in the back silently.

"It will be alright, Alfred," Bruce paused before getting into the car. "We asked the bishop to keep us in mind should something open up."

Alfred blinked at the master's back. "Indeed," he murmured quietly.

* * *

"Yes! We're ready to go home now?" Jason bumped Elle's shoulder as she waited for the cashier to ring up her purchase.

She glanced at him with a sunny smile. She had found it. The dress she was looking for. It was perfect . . . or at least it would be once she had a seamstress fitted it and made a few other adjustments to personalize it for her. It wouldn't take much. The seamstress she had in mind, however, lived in Chicago. Elle would need to call her later and make arrangements to do a fitting and talk about what she wanted as soon as possible.

"Oh, you two make a cute pair," the cashier told them. "But it is unusual for the bride to let the groom see her gown before the wedding. I guess you two aren't superstitious?"

They looked at her startled.

"What?" Elle gaped and glanced at Jason. Pink flushed his face, too. "Oh no! We're not a couple."

Jason was shaking his head. "No way! I'm not marriage material. She's marrying my brother. I'm just here to . . ."

"He's escorting my bridesmaids and me around. We had a few drinks at lunch and he's the designated driver," Elle explained hurriedly.

Jason nodded rapidly. "Yeah, what she said."

The cashier blushed a little. "I'm sorry. You two seem so comfortable together and all."

Elle burst out laughing. "This is a lull, trust me. I'm fairly certain that if I give him enough time, I'll want to punch him in the face again."

"Oh, that seems a shame," the cashier blurted. She looked up at Jason shyly. "I mean it's such a nice face and all."

Jason smiled at the young woman and leaned casually against the counter. "Oh, yeah? You think so?"

Elle looked between the two in amusement. "Would you two like to be alone?" she asked. "I'm sure I can get Tim to drive us back or call a cab."

The woman blushed again and finished the sale. "Sorry," she apologized again as she handed Elle back her credit card. It didn't stop her from handing a card to Jason, however, before they left. "My number . . . My name's Cheri."

Elle rolled her eyes and grabbed her gown. "Thank you," she told Cheri but she highly doubted that the woman heard her. She tugged on Jason's jacket sleeve to regain his attention. "We're going out the car now. Don't take too long or I'll be forced to leave you behind."

As far as threats went, it wasn't much. She didn't think Jason would mind terribly if he were left to Cheri's dubious devices. She called to her girlfriends and started toward the door when Jason appeared in front of her.

"What do you think you're doing?" he growled irritated at her again.

"I told you but, obviously, you were distracted at the time," Elle replied, amused. Her gaze slid to Cheri who was watching Jason at the door.

"Not so distracted that I don't remember that it's my job to look out for you. You don't go out until I clear it," he reminded her in no uncertain terms.

Randi frowned at his back as he stepped out of the store. "Is he serious? I just thought he was supposed to drive us around because you weren't that familiar with Gotham."

Jasmine looked worried. "Does this have anything to do with that home invasion thing that happened a while back? Are you in trouble or something?"

Elle should have mentioned it to her friends. It was their right to know but she didn't want to worry them. Still, there was a chance of a stray bullet striking one of them or someone crashing into their car. She was a horrible friend.

"Someone has been . . ." she started but Jason interrupted her.

"All clear. I pulled the car up." Jason looked at the worried faces of Elle's friends and the guilty look on hers. He sighed. "No worries, ladies. Just a stalker fan that followed Elle to Gotham. Dick didn't want to take a chance that he might bother you while you were shopping."

Elle frowned at him. Jason lied for her. "But . . ."

"I don't know about you but shopping for a wedding gown is exhausting," Jason held the door open for them. "I'm ready to call it a day."

Randi stared a second longer and then nodded. "I agree. I'm bushed. I need a nap before heading to the club. I'm singing tonight remember?"

Jasmine nodded but wasn't ready to let the stalker thing go. "You have someone following you? Girl! Why didn't you say something?"

"I-I . . . Uh, didn't want to worry you," Elle stuttered. That much was the truth anyway.

Shannon shoved Jasmine and Elle through the door and toward the car. "Randi's right. I have to be at work at six and will be there until closing. Let's go before I'm late."

"Wait! My gown," Elle exclaimed. "It needs to go in the trunk."

Jason pulled it out of her hand. "I'll get that. Full service driver and bodyguard," he announced, winking at Jasmine.

As hoped, Jasmine's concern flew out the window as Jason flirted and Shannon pouted.

"This is so not fair," she grumbled. "All the good guys flock to you three. I don't get it. I'm a blonde! They're supposed to go for me."

Elle climbed in and sat in the middle. She held up her hands. "Not me! I'm taken. No flocking in my direction, thank you very much."

Shannon sat across from her in the limo. "Yeah, well, Randi is tall and elegant. She looks like a model and sings like a dream. And Jasmine has got that perfect toffee-colored skin and those black soulful eyes . . ."

Randi leaned forward and took Shannon's hand. "You are a beautiful woman, Shannon, and very sweet and loyal to a fault. Any man would be lucky to get you."

Shannon sniffed. "You're just saying that because you have to. You guys are my friends!"

"Of course we are," Elle insisted. "Best friends!"

"And didn't Elle tell you that Jason had more hang ups than a telemarketer?" Jasmine reminded her.

Elle waved a hand as the driver's side door opened. "Sh! I don't want to hurt his feelings. Jason's going to be by brother-in-law! Don't say that out loud!"

"Don't say what out loud?" Jason asked as he slid into the driver's seat. His eyes met Elle's in the rearview mirror.

"Girl talk, Jason," Elle smiled and shrugged. "Just girl talk."

* * *

He snorted and started the limo. After a glance to ensure that Roy and Tim were prepared to follow on their cycles at a discreet distance, he pulled out of the parking lot and into traffic.

No shots were taken at them today and for that, Jason was grateful. The search for Deadshot would start in earnest tonight. He was ready to get off of this ride. He was liking Elle more every day, certainly learning to respect her, and her friends were easy on the eyes but babysitting duty to this particular bunch of women drove him more than a little bit nuts.

The sooner this gig was over the better he would like it.

* * *

 **REACTIONS? I really want to hear from you this time!**

 **Did anyone doubt that Bruce would Be Dick's best man? I'll admit I considered Wally and even Jason (but he and Jason hadn't gotten that close yet) but this is Bruce . . . If you're still in doubt, go back and reread what Dick says when he asks him.**


	14. Preparations

**Warning: Language . . .**

* * *

"Hold all my calls. I'm out for the rest of the day," Aiden told his secretary as he entered his office.

"You're leaving?" Nora asked as she followed her boss to the door. "Is there anything you need before you go?"

Aiden paused as he thought about it, then shook his head. "No, I'm good. Everything else can wait. You can go home as well. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Right," Nora nodded. She turned to get shut down her computer and gather up her things.

Aiden opened the drawer of his desk and pulled out several burner cell phones. He was calling people who regularly ran afoul of the law; people who had certain knowledge that others might want and not care how they went about getting it.

It was possible that Bella set this whole thing up so that he would become a person of interest to the both the law and the wrong set of people but Aiden wanted his inheritance. It was all he had left of his father. He had worked for years to make the man proud of him and the company successful. That Cedric Hamilton had no faith in him, his own son, that he would snatch everything Aiden had worked for away and give it to that ungrateful bitch . . . He wondered if that sharp pain of betrayal would ever leave him.

He had been thinking it over for the last day or so. He knew that he had underestimated Bella several times over. Yes, she was young and inexperienced compared to him, but she was personable; her voice made people like and trust her without reason. And apparently, she was smarter than he had given her credit for. He knew she hadn't been doing nothing since he had presented her with the paper work for the competency hearing.

According to his sources, Bella had an army of psychiatrists from around the country ready to testify that she was perfectly sane and fit run the company. He also heard that she had stepped down from acting CEO and had promoted Michael Grassi to take her place just yesterday. Although Bella still retained the power to make certain important decisions, she had handed over the reins to a man that knew the company inside and out; one that Aiden himself respected. By taking herself out of the day to day running of the company and thus, the equation, Bella had just effectively cut him off at the knees.

The board, he knew, supported her decision in light of the hearing. She was married to the son of a well-respected businessman and billionaire; a family whom the court would also respect. Even if Bella was declared incompetent, the chances were very good that Wayne would convince the judge, in light of Cedric's will, to name either his son or Wayne himself as her guardian. All it would take was a private interview with Bella and Wayne to convince the judge that she was 'normal'. . . This might have worked had Bella been on her own but with one of the most powerful men in the country, arguably the world, Aiden could see that Bella had managed to effortlessly sidestep his plans for her. Continuing the lawsuit at this point would only serve to place him in a bad light, if not make him look like a greedy bastard.

Now, with this new development Bella had presented him, Aiden had hope that he might regain a portion of his inheritance by somehow pulling her ass out of this latest debacle she had found herself in. A part of him wanted to let whoever was after Bella just kill her for him. She would finally be forever out of his life but then so, too, would be Hamilton Industries. He had worked too damned hard . . . and the carrot she was dangling in front of him was too damned big and juicy for him to ignore.

So, Aiden Hamilton had taken the information that Bella had given him and put out feelers early that morning in hopes of discovering who was behind the contract on his half-sister's life and the past couple of hours withdrawing his petition from the court. If he failed, Bella would get everything and Aiden left with naught but a token, a tiny slice from a pie that, just two months ago, he had practically owned. It was humiliating.

If this didn't work, however, he would, at least, have a sweet consolation prize of burying the thorn in his side. There was always _that_.

Grabbing his coat and hat, he called down for his driver and left his office. In the privacy of the car, he could use the burner phones to check his bait and see if he had a nibble. He had a few more things to put into place before he met with a killer. Last thing he wanted to do is wind up dead himself.

Nora Inglehart was getting ready to leave when Aiden exited his office. The dark-haired woman was his senior by a little more than a decade although she didn't look it. She had been hand-picked by Cedric Hamilton to be his son's secretary years ago, when Aiden had first started out in the business. The woman was the best gift his father had ever given him. Smart, dedicated, and, especially, loyal . . . Nora had been with Aiden ever since.

"Enjoy the rest of the day, Nora," Aiden said as he moved past her.

"Sir?"

He paused and looked back at the woman. "Yes? Did you need something else before I left?"

"Is everything alright?" Nora asked him.

"Yes. Why do you ask?" Curious . . .

"It's just that . . . Well, you seem different today," Nora said. "A couple of days ago, you were so frustrated and, today, you seem . . . better, hopeful, even though I know you stopped the suit against _her_. Has something happened?"

Aiden hesitated for only a moment. Nora was, perhaps, the one person he still felt he could trust.

"My half-sister gave me a task," he told her. "If I can complete it . . . Well, let's just say we've come to an agreement that will prove amicable for the both of us."

Nora blinked. He almost smiled. He had just dropped a bomb on her. Nora knew all about the animosity between the siblings. She had believed, and rightly so, that he would never deal with his half-sister except through their lawyers. Things change, however.

"Amicable?" she asked unsure.

"Our . . . father," Aiden hated sharing. The word 'our' when used in conjunction with Bella always left a bad taste in his mouth. "He left a tangled mess in his will, the strands of which are only now being freed enough that something might be accomplished," he stated enigmatically.

Nora tilted her head as she stared at him. "I . . . see," she said, although she really didn't. "That sounds quite promising," she smiled. "Is that where you are off to now? To this task?"

"Indeed," he nodded his head just once.

"In that case," Nora picked up her purse and an armful of files, "I wish you the best of luck, sir," she told him as she walked past him toward the elevators. "And a pleasant evening."

Aiden watched her leave. His vehicle was parked in a private level of the parking garage, only accessible through a private elevator to himself and three of his vice-presidents. One that needed a security clearance badge to use. Nora was good employee, trust-worthy, loyal . . . She already had the highest clearance available, equal to his, to be able to do her job and assist him. He would call security and order her a badge. He would feel better knowing she was safe walking to her vehicle every night.

. . . Particularly if she were taking home sensitive documents. One couldn't be too careful, after all, he thought, remembering the attack on Bella.

 _Now, to contact this Deadshot person to set up this meeting_ . . .

* * *

"Where's Damian?" Tim asked when he entered the kitchen.

Dick was munching on an apple, keeping Alfred company as he prepared supper.

"I do believe, if you follow the thumping, you will find him," Alfred muttered, disapprovingly.

Tim glanced at Dick. "Thumping?"

"Elle's giving him drum lessons," Dick answered, amused. "Alfred's not a fan."

"Forgive me, Master Dick," Alfred paused in his chopping. "I did not mean to criticize Miss Arabella. Her voice is that of an angel and she plays divine but, at least not yet, the young sir has yet to master his instrument."

Dick tossed the apple core, ignoring the look of annoyance on the butler's face. He patted the older man's shoulder as he walked by him.

"Never fear, Alfred," he assured him. "Damian will improve. He already has quite a bit."

"Hm," Alfred murmured. "Perhaps, then, it is the instrument of choice?"

"Perhaps we should talk to Bruce about soundproofing the room," Tim offered. "I believe the room is only meant to provide better acoustics, not muffle the sounds from the rest of the house."

"Maybe we should," Dick agreed. "I'm not sure how long we'll be staying. Elle will be in there every day."

Tim shrugged. "I don't think it is Elle that is the problem."

Dick smirked. "Come on, I'll join you," he said, following his younger brother out of the kitchen. The noise was a lot louder out in the rest of the house.

It was funny to see Tim searching Damian out. This would have never have happened before Elle came into their lives. The three later Robins tended to threaten or attempt to kill one another on a daily basis . . . Or, at least, they had. Even Jason was popping in more often. It had been a dream of Dick's that his family learn to forgive and get along with one another, one that he hadn't any real hope of seeing in reality . . . Until now.

It made his heart light.

As they got closer to their destination, the thumping, as Alfred had called it, grew louder, only to be shattered by a crash of a cymbal as they were opening the door to the music room. Damian sat behind his drum set, his lack of expertise made up for by his enthusiasm.

Elle was smiling at him and nodding to the beat. "You're doing great, Damian. It's only been two weeks and you got the tempo down. We will continue to work on technique and power . . . Or in this case, lack of power."

Damian looked up at her, confused. "I'm not hitting it hard enough?" he asked.

"No, you hit it plenty hard," she assured him. "But not every song requires you to attempt to break the drum head. You need to ease up a bit and relax more."

"You're definitely improving, Damian," Dick told him as he moved toward his fiancée.

Elle greeted him with a kiss to the tune of Damian making gagging noises. They were laughing by the end of it. To annoy the youngest a little more, Dick dipped her backward over his arm and made loud sucking noises as he did his best Dracula impression. Elle squealed as he hit a ticklish spot and squirmed.

"I thought this was why you moved to the other wing of the house," Damian complained. "To spare the rest of us these embarrassing displays of affection." He walked passed the couple and grabbed an amused Tim's arm. "Come on, Drake. I feel the need to punch something."

"What? And you think to use me as your punching bag?" Tim asked, but he was already turning and following his little brother back out the door. His goal of locating Damian for his own purposes, accomplished. "Just a warning, brat, I punch back."

"You may attempt to defend yourself, Drake, but I will alert Pennyworth to be prepared to administer first aid when we are finished," Damian was saying as they disappeared down the hall, their voices moving farther away as the two headed to the gym in the cave below.

Dick set Elle back on her feet. "Ah, alone at last. Are you missing the apartment as much as I am?"

Elle smiled sympathetically. "Perhaps it won't be for much longer. Have you any clues yet as to where to find this Headshot fellow?"

He winced at that title. "It'd Deadshot," he corrected her, "and if he followed you to Gotham, we haven't been able to locate him as yet. He has ties to here, however, and our informants have an eye out for him in his usual haunts. No worries, sweetheart. We've dealt with him before. Jason is supposed to be searching Bludhaven for us tonight. He might not be aware yet that we moved back into the manor."

But even as he assured her of this, Dick made his way over to the window and slide the curtains closed. "In the meantime, if you could avoid windows?"

Elle made a face. "Seriously?"

"It's only temporary," he assured her.

"Well, you should be avoiding windows as well, don't you think?" Elle shot back.

"I can think of several ways we both can avoid windows," Dick swept her up into another embrace, grinning down at her, their noses nearly touching.

Elle responded by sliding her arms around his neck and pressed up against him suggestively.

"I have a few ideas of my own," she growled low. Although her anger at him over the weekend had long since dissipated, a little more makeup sex would not without its benefits.

"Are you thinking the same thing as I'm thinking?" he asked her as he teased her earlobe.

"I sure as hell hope so," she breathed.

"Let's go," Dick grinned. He grabbed her hand and pulled her after him.

Elle's smile dimmed a little as, instead of heading back to the stairs, Dick turned in the opposite direction. "Where are we going?"

"The gym," he called back over his shoulder. "We haven't trained since we got here."

Her eyes widened at the prospect. "Are you serious? I thought you wanted to make out," she pouted.

"And did you not ask me this weekend about resuming your self-defense?" he reminded her. He continued as he knew the answer to that as well as she. "I want to add more offense to the routine this time. Damian was correct when he said you need to know how to take down your attacker in case getting away from him isn't an option."

If she looked disappointed a second ago, Elle suddenly looked intrigued now.

"You're going to teach me how to kick your ass?" she asked him.

Dick winced a little at the prospect. "I'm sure as hell going to try," he told her, "but you don't have to look so enthusiastic about it."

But Elle was laughing again as she let go of his hand and ducked into the changing room. He hesitated as he stared at the closed door. She seemed entirely too excited by the prospect and it was a little disturbing. He shrugged it off and made his way toward the other changing room.

Who was he to complain about her change in attitude? They might just manage to accomplish something this time around, more than they had when he had been forced to drag Elle into the gym, anyway.

* * *

The night was less dark than usual. The heavy cloud cover and the scent of moisture in the air promised another snow was on its way, probably by morning. While the clouds did its part in obliterating the night sky and hiding the moon and what stars that were bright enough to still be seen in the city, it also reflected the lights back down onto the city itself, making it pretty easy to see despite being in an alley.

He only had a little time to accomplish his goal before Red Robin and Robin would be looking for him. He preferred that this mission be handled secretly. Instead of looking up the information on the Batcomputer in the cave, Batman had waited until he was alone in the Batmobile to look it up. The computer in the Batmobile was linked to the Batcave but he could search without having to worry that someone would enter and see what it was he was working on. It had taken three minutes to break into the city's files and pull the plans for the North Gotham Protestant Church. Less to determine where the offices were located.

The Church had a security system but it was an older system and not top of the line. It was the work of minutes to disable it, unlock the window, and slip inside. This late, and without being alerted to an intruder's presence, there was no reason for anyone to still be here. The minister lived in a neighboring building but still offsite and on the other side of the compound. Batman turned on the desk light.

He started his search on the desk belonging in the outer office. The secretary might have information on her desk calendar and . . . Bingo! It was amazingly easy to locate information that had no relevance to a crime in an office that was not involved in anything shady. No reason to hide it, the info he was looking for was right out in the open.

The secretary's calendar had all church-related events listed through every month. Batman only needed to check the names listed on the month and day that Dick and Elle had hoped to have their nuptials. The calendar was open, of course, to January so he flipped past February to March and there it was.

Saturday, the fourth of March . . . There were two weddings! One in the morning: Hooper/Paulson at nine a.m. and one in the evening: Quinn/Grant at seven p.m.

Bruce had no idea if Elle preferred a morning or evening wedding. Dick wanted Elle to have her dream wedding, though, and making certain that it happened was to be Bruce's gift to them. An anonymous gift, but one he was determined to give. He copied the names and the phone numbers listed. He would simply give both couples the weddings of their dreams as well as long as they were somewhere else on that date. It would cost a chunk of change but it wouldn't make a dent in his bank account, one of the joys of being a billionaire.

He stopped by the file cabinet and searched for further information on both couples. It would behoove him to have the full names and addresses of both parties and any pertinent information the Church retained on them. Ten minutes after he had arrived, Batman had turned out the light and climbed back through the window. He enabled the security system and checked the time. Plenty to meet up with the boys and continue their patrol.

Part one of this particular mission was accomplished and he would contact the couples tomorrow from his office.

* * *

 **REACTIONS?**

 **Things might be looking up for our couple at last . . . And sneaky Bruce is proving to be too sweet. ;D**


	15. Everybody Loves a Good Party

**Warnings: Some Language . . .**

* * *

"C'mon, Elle! You've got to let yourself loosen up," Tim told her as he brought his bo-staff down towards her. He was being careful; using slow, exaggerated movements so she had time to counter his strikes.

Despite this, she barely got her staff up in time to meet his. The sound of the two, solid hardwood crashing together made her flinch. She hated this, _hated_ it! Learning how to get out of all of Dick's holds, Bruce's strengthening and stamina exercises, and Damian's lethal blows, learning how to fight with weapons was the worst. She wasn't made for this kind of thing, for fighting. Elle hated violent confrontations, a knowledge Aiden had used to his advantage for years. It wasn't that she _wouldn't_ fight; it was more that she preferred to avoid it. If she had a reason for it . . . but, right now, she was only here because being a member of this family, it was expected of her.

Tim's staff veered off at the last second before connecting with her face. Elle yelped in surprise and stumbled back only to fall on her ass.

"Elle! You're not concentrating," the eighteen-year-old snapped at her. He threw the staff down and moved to help her up.

She ignored his hands and laid down on her back. Yeah, laying here on the nice, comfy mat was something she could be good at. "Go away," Elle grumbled in irritation. "I suck at this."

Tim leaned over her, his hands on his knees and smiled encouragingly. "You're new to it. There's a learning curve. Don't worry, though, you'll get it."

"Ah, but what if I don't want to get it?" She glared up at him in frustration. "I don't _like_ hitting people. I _especially_ don't like hitting people with sticks! I'm a singer, Tim," she complained. "I make people feel better. That's what I do!"

"And that is why we love you," he said as he sat down on the mat beside her.

"Hmph, now, _that_ didn't sound patronizing at all," she huffed, rolling her eyes. She laid her arm over her face as she forced a break. Her sweat and the chill of the cave made laying still uncomfortable. Why couldn't they practice this in the gym upstairs again?

Tim snorted, amused. "It's not patronizing if it's true."

Elle peeked at him from under her arm. "Aww, you sounded as if you really meant that," she teased. She had to stifle a laugh as a blush stole up his neck and face, and turned his ears red.

Tim rolled to his feet easily, as if they hadn't been at this for an hour already.

"Look, Elle. We know you don't like this," Tim started. He was going to repeat the arguments given to her by Dick and every other member of the household. "But your father had a reason to hire bodyguards for you. Being a member of this family will only make it more tempting for lowlifes to try to make some easy money by using you. If you don't want to be surrounded by guards and want have a shot at a normal life, you need to know how to defend yourself properly."

"That was very tactful, Tim," Elle said as she sat up. "Not one mention of the contract out on my head."

Tim sighed. He had been over that video twenty times already and it never got any easier. Normally he didn't have any trouble distancing himself from the victims and using cold logic to analyze the criminal's attacks or his words for clues. It changes things, he discovered, when you know the victim in the video you're watching . . . when you like her.

"You're small, Elle . . ."

"I'm average height for a female," she interrupted, mildly annoyed. Seemed like everyone was taller than her anymore . . . Except Shannon. Elle missed her, even if her friend liked to be snippy at Dick. Shannon only did it out of concern for her, after all, so Elle tried to be patient.

"Smaller than whoever might come after you," he clarified. "It makes sense for you to use a weapon. It will extend your reach and even the playing field, giving you a better chance to defeat him or escape if you know how to use one effectively."

Elle climbed to her feet. She did _not_ look graceful doing it. She was sweaty and tired, and it was making her cranky.

"I don't know how it is that you guys haven't given up on me," she huffed. "You do _know_ I am never going to be one of you, right?"

Tim looked at her quizzically. "You already _are_ one of us, Elle. The wedding, which is coming up fast, will only make it official."

That teased a smile out of her. "Sweet . . . But not what I meant."

"Okay, so what did you mean?"

She watched Tim flip his bo-staff from the floor with his foot and catch it in his hand. She tried to do the same only to have it bonk her in the forehead. Fumbling, Elle made a grab for it again. She caught one end as the free side swung around to smack into her ankle.

"Ow!" Elle yelped and she hopped up and down on her good foot.

Tim gaped at her for a startled moment, then rushed forward to help her. Before he could reach her, however, Elle lost her balance near the edge of the mat, falling onto the hard, stone floor with a feminine oomph. The staff, still in her hand, swung around wildly and cracked Tim across his own ankle. The sound it made echoed in the cavern. The teen yelped before he, too, fell over.

Tim glanced at her as he rubbed his ankle. "Well, although not the technique I was going for, it's effective all the same." He smiled ruefully. "You okay?"

Elle shot him a dirty look. "Ow," she remarked dryly. "And _this_ is what I meant earlier. I'll never be a Batgirl."

Tim sighed. "We _are_ currently missing one of those, but no one's rushing to fill the position. Elle, that wasn't the reason behind our wanting to teach you. We want you to be safe. And now we have the added incentive of wanting Dick to remain safe as well. We don't expect you to fight crime with us; we just don't want you to be helpless. We don't want you to be hurt."

Elle pouted for a little longer. "Well . . . since you put it _that_ way."

She could do this for Dick. She really didn't want to be the weak link in their Batchain. If protecting herself meant she could protect Dick . . . and their children. The sob came out more like a hiccup and took her by surprise.

Tim looked at her curiously. She turned her head away.

Sometimes the grief for the child lost returned to hit her all at once. It was just a few weeks ago; she supposed she should expect it to happen from time to time, especially since her hormones were still kind of crazy from being . . . pregnant.

The second sob sounded like a sob was supposed to sound. Elle drew her knees up and buried her face in them. This was so embarrassing but she couldn't help it.

"Elle? What's wrong?" Tim rolled onto his hands and knees and crawled the few feet that separated them. "Did I say something wrong? Are you really hurt?"

She shook her head, but refused to look up. The sobs tore at her soul. Her baby . . . If only she had been stronger. _This_ was why she was here. _Her baby_ . . . Dick assured her there would be other children. She knew that they would have another child eventually but she had wanted _this_ one so badly . . . and she hadn't been able to protect it or herself.

Tim wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He was a little awkward at it but he only wanted to help.

"Elle, please," he said a little helplessly. He looked around the cave for someone to appear and take his place but there was no one down here but them. "Tell me how to help you."

She took a shuddering breath and then another. When she looked up at him finally, it was to find Tim crying with her. Tears fell down his face and he looked so alarmed and a little scared. She realized that he thought he had broken her and of course, she knew the sound of her crying would enhance and strengthen any empathy he had in him.

Poor Tim . . .

She had made him cry . . . But no more, she decided. No more crying and complaining. She could do this! Determination filled her.

"I'm ready," she said suddenly.

He blinked and wiped at his eyes. "You are?"

She nodded firmly. "Teach me."

He helped her back up and handed her the bo-staff. "Alright, then. Head back to the center of the mat and take up a defensive position."

* * *

It was supposed to happen like it did in the movies. She had hit her low spot and then found her motivation . . . She was supposed to have gotten up and absorbed everything up like a sponge and been kicking Tim's ass before the hour was up.

Elle sighed as she stood in the shower and let the hot water roll over her sore shoulders. She was black and blue from all the times she hadn't been fast enough. Tim had been pulling his strikes and averting hitting her on multiple occasions but even Red Robin hadn't been good enough to make up for how bad she was.

Only once had she managed to get past his defense and actually hit him. It hadn't been on purpose, however, but she had clobbered him on the back of the head hard enough to stagger him. But all those other times he had easily deflected her blows. Too bad she had been so slow in her own reaction time.

If she hadn't sucked as badly as she did, she thought, then she might not currently look as if she were half-zebra instead of being half-fish.

"Do I have to go kill my little brother now?"

Dick's voice made her jump and he got soaked reaching in to save her from slipping in the shower.

"Sorry," he said with a smile. "I didn't mean to startle you. I thought you might have felt me come in."

Elle sighed. "No. I was kind of caught up in my own thoughts. It's okay. What's one more bruise? No one would be able to tell the difference."

Dick checked her over as he handed her the towel. "Ouch! Tim was supposed to go easy on you. I think maybe I will have to have a go round with him down on the sparring mats for this."

Elle climbed out on the bath mat. Safe from potential falls now, she leaned in to kiss him. He was already wet anyway.

"No," she said. "Don't do that. He too busy at the moment nursing his concussion."

His eyebrows rose as he waited for the story behind that.

"I kind of hit him in the head with the bo-staff today," she said, regretfully. It had staggered him alright, enough to bring their training session to an end. She had left him in the medical bay with Alfred checking his pupils for equal reactions to light. "Alfred said he should be fine in a couple of days, though," she added quickly.

Dick snorted. "You managed to clock him with the staff? Tim's the resident expert with the staff, you realize. It's almost impossible to get past his guard when he has a staff in his hand."

"Uh huh," she muttered wrapping the towel around her and grabbing another for her hair. "He'll be off the crutches by the weekend."

"You're kidding . . ."

Elle looked up at Dick and winced. "I swear they were accidents!" She bit her lip. "Do you want to go round on the mats with me, now, too?"

Dick snorted with laughter. Elle smacked his shoulder.

"Stop that," she groused. "It's not funny."

"Oh, yes, it is . . ." Dick gasped after a minute. He noticed Elle limping as he followed her out to the bedroom. "Are you okay? Do you want me to run downstairs and get you a crutch, too?"

Elle tossed a wet towel at his head. "Oh, shut up." She stuck her tongue out at him.

She pulled out the clothes she wanted to wear starting with a green sweater with a large V-neck and three-quarter length sleeves. It hung loose and reached the tops of her thighs. She had to lie down on the bed to fit the white, skinny jeans on.

Dick leaned back and grinned, enjoying the show. She glared at him as she fastened and zipped the pants.

"You won't say what you're thinking if you want to live," she warned.

He smirked. "What? I didn't say anything!"

"You wanted to," Elle pointed out.

"I am a smart man. Bruce didn't raise no fool," he told her as he grabbed her hand and pulled her up against him. "Please say you'll need help taking those jeans off later."

She smirked. "Depends . . ."

He looked interested now. "Really," he nibbled along her jawline. "On what?"

"On whether or not you can catch me," she blurted and shoved him backward onto the bed.

She darted out the door and down the hall, laughing. Her bruised ankle already healed and forgotten in the joy of the moment. Dick rolled off of the bed and took off after her in hot pursuit.

* * *

Master Dick and Miss Arabella burst into the kitchen, laughing. Twas obvious that they had been racing through the house. Alfred, normally frowning on such activity, merely looked on with bemusement. He was learning quickly that neither one of the couple could remember that particular rule of the house for more than a few minutes at a time. Luckily, no one was beside the door as they pushed through but they had been making so much noise that everyone there had been prepared.

"Ah, just in time for lunch, I see," Alfred smiled jovially.

The manor hadn't been this alive in all the entirety of the man's employment and the older man relished the chaos and confusion that the young couple had brought with them. Never had the house rang with so much laughter or beheld such smiles since the days before passing of Dr. and Mrs. Wayne. What a difference only a week had made.

Damian had become far more social since the advent of Dick and Miss Arabella's move, no longer hidden away in either his room or the depths of the cave, and Tim was suddenly home far more often, to the point where one might wonder if the rent on his apartment was going to waste. Even Jason popped in despite there being no emergency to use as an excuse.

This was beginning to feel like a real family and not simply a temporary stop in the boys' lives as they passed through. At the moment, the only person missing from this family affair was the master of the house himself. Master Bruce had left earlier on an errand most secret after been ensconced within his study all morning. Alfred had an inkling it had to do with a certain upcoming wedding and, as such, kept mum to all inquiries as to his current whereabouts.

Miss Arabella was flushed and bright-eyed, greeted everyone, laughing as she leaned against the counter. She looked curiously at what he was cooking while Master Dick ducked his head into the refrigerator in search of something cold to drink.

"You didn't have to go to all that trouble for us, Alfred," Miss Arabella told him. "I'm used to cooking for Dick and I."

"Nonsense," the butler told her. "I was already whipping up something for the boys. It is just as easy to make enough for five as it is for three."

She stole a carrot from the pile he was chopping, something any other inhabitant would have gotten their finger smacked for attempting. Miss Arabella waved the vegetable around as she spoke to him, a small crease appearing between her brows.

"That's hardly fair," she was saying. "You realize, don't you, that I can cook as well. You should have called me. I could have helped."

"Well, lunch is nearly finished now. I'm afraid it will have to wait for another time," Alfred said.

"What to do you have planned for dinner?" she asked, as Dick set a bottle of her company's specially distilled water in front of her.

"Grilled salmon steaks with rosemary baby potatoes," Alfred answered. His words tapered off at the look that flitted across her face. "Is something wrong, Miss?"

Dick grinned and bumped Arabella with his hip playfully as he explained for her.

"Elle doesn't eat fish," he said with some ruefulness. "She despises all things seafood."

"No seafood?" Tim asked, joining them at the counter with his crutches.

Dick looked at the wrapped ankle and winced. "How are you? Heard my fiancée kicked your . . . um, bum."

Tim shrugged. "Lucky to be alive. Your fiancée is wicked."

"I said I was sorry," Elle blushed.

Tim laughed. "Don't worry about it. I've had much worse than this, believe me. And _this_ ," he indicated the ankle, "wouldn't have been a problem if I hadn't continued with the training session and just iced it right away. My bad decisions are not your fault."

"I think you're being kind," she grumbled, still feeling guilty.

He shook his head and changed the subject back to what it had been. "Do you think that this dislike of seafood have something to do with your Atlantian roots?"

Arabella blushed. "I don't know. I suppose I'm what you'd call the Atlantian version of a vegan but truthfully, I just never really cared for it."

Tim smiled. "So, how's that work out for you two since we all know that Dick loves his seafood."

Dick answered for her. "I used to eat out at a seafood place for lunch a couple of times during the work week. I can't convince Elle to make it for me at home." He made sad, puppy-dog eyes at her.

Arabella tossed a little of her water in Dick's face.

He sputtered and gasped. "What was that for?"

"Don't try to make me feel guilty for not making you seafood! Ugh," she wrinkled her nose in disgust. She refused to feel guilty for _that_.

"Oh, dear," Alfred said, distressed. He had no idea that the young woman felt so strongly about her dislike. "If you tell me what you would prefer, I would be happy to make you something else."

Dick shook his head, unwilling to let this go. "No," he interrupted. "You know what? You owe me, Elle."

She gaped at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You owe me a dinner at a local surf and turf. You and I will sit down to a nice meal where you can have your cow and I will have my seafood," Dick announced. "I've done enough uncomfortable things for you, including eating dinner at the club all the while Chef Raymond had it in for me."

Arabella looked at him with an expression akin to horror. "You wouldn't!"

"I ate _charcoal_ for you," he reminded her. " _Charcoal_!"

Alfred watched this with a twinge of guilt. "I can put the salmon away. We can have it some other night. I can fix something more palatable for the entire company, perhaps."

Arabella jumped on that. "No, Alfred," she decided suddenly. "I will fix dinner tonight for everyone, including you!"

"Oh no, Miss! That simply won't do," he tried to stop her. "You're family now and I . . ."

"You might as well give up that argument right now," Dick laughed as he moved to sit at the table with Damian and Jason. "You'll never win it. And besides," he continued happily, "Elle makes the most amazing Chicken Cacciatori you've ever eaten."

Alfred glanced at her hesitantly. Arabella smiled back confidently.

"I've helped my grandmother with many a dinner party," she assured him. "I can cook for seven easily."

It wasn't that. The kitchen had always been Alfred's domain. Master Bruce, for all his accomplishments, couldn't boil water without the fire department on hand. The boys never had an interest in the kitchen unless Alfred was baking cookies.

"Perhaps, if we were to compromise and you allowed me to assist you?" he offered, hopefully.

She narrowed her eyes for a moment and he was almost afraid she would ban him from his own kitchen. That was preposterous, of course. Alfred would never allow for that, even for Miss Arabella. In the end, she smiled graciously and nodded her head.

"That would be acceptable," she said. "You can make the salad."

Alfred sputtered, and Arabella and the boys laughed at her teasing. He chuckled as well but was unsure if her teasing were actually that. He sighed; he would worry about that outcome later, he decided and began to ladle out a homemade spicy sausage and white bean soup into the bowls. He had warmed up thick slices of French bread to serve with it. Despite his protestations, Arabella helped him carry the food to the table.

Heaven help him, this was the one thing he would have trouble getting used to.

* * *

Elle sat down between Dick and Damian, and looked around the table. They had been discussing something while she had been chatting with Alfred. Everyone was making appreciative noises at the butler but as soon as people settled in to eat, she pounced. She wasn't a gossip and seldom contributed to any . . . That way lay trouble, she knew, but this was different. This was family . . . And she missed it.

Normally, she'd be in Italy at this time of year with her grandparents. But she had a new family now, one in which she was determined to make a place for herself.

"So, what were you all talking about?" she asked after her first mouthful of soup.

"Father's birthday is coming up next month," Damian offered. "We were discussing what we would all get him this year."

Elle blinked. "What?" She looked at Dick. "It's Bruce's birthday? When exactly and why didn't anyone think to let me in on this?"

Tim answered for Dick. "Oh, it's still about three weeks away," he said, "on the seventeenth. There's plenty of time yet."

"What do you do around here for birthdays?" she asked curiously.

"It's nothing major when it's just one of us," Dick told her. "Mostly just the family and a couple of close family friends."

Jason snorted. "Not so with 'Brucie'," he laughed.

Elle frowned. "'Brucie'? I don't understand."

Jason grinned as he picked up his glass of beer, no drinking from the bottle when Alfred was around. "Bruce hates his birthdays."

"What? But, why?" She was confused. Everybody loved birthdays she had always assumed.

"It's because the upper-crust of high society expects him to celebrate it with _them_ every year," Tim explained. "It's always a big social bash that takes up at least two pages of the society section of the newspaper. I hear it's supposed to take up two ballrooms at the Gotham Ritz-Carlton this time."

"Bruce actually hates hanging out with socialites," Dick told her.

"Then, why do it?"

"Because it is expected of him," Tim said.

Jason set his beer down. "It's because he can't risk anyone assuming he's more than one of those pompous, self-righteous, bubble-headed elites that play shuttlecock and polo between garden parties." At Elle's startled expression. "No one's allowed to guess he's really the same guy who dresses up like a flying rodent every night and beats the crap out of criminals."

"No one can guess that he is Batman," Dick clarified.

"Those air-headed idiots are beneath him," Damian declared.

Elle pursed her lips. "You guys do realize that ' _I'm_ ' one of those pompous, self-righteous, bubble-headed elites, too, right? I grew up as one of them."

Four sets of eyes blinked at her.

"You're not one of them," Damian declared forcefully.

Tim and Jason exchanged a look. "Yeah, but you're not like the rest of them," Jason added.

Tim shrugged. "My parents were, but I seldom had to attend any of the events because they were gone most of the time. I've had to go to more society events since being adopted by Bruce than I ever did before that."

"True but you weren't really old enough to attend most of those events, either," Dick said. He nodded at Jason and snorted. "Jay used to hide every time there was a party he had to go to."

Jason threw his napkin at him. "Only the first couple of times. Bruce would always ground me from patrols if I refused to play dress-up for Daddy and his rich, snobby friends."

Elle smiled at the image of a young Jason in a tux. "And that was worse than wearing a bowtie and a dress jacket for a few hours?"

All four nodded vigorously.

"It doesn't seem fair though, does it?" she asked. "I mean, Bruce hates it as much as all of you do but he doesn't get the option of bowing out even on his birthday. Seems a shame that he can't enjoy his day."

She watched as they all seemed to grasp what she was saying. They all knew that Bruce despised hobnobbing as much as the rest of them but it never really clicked how unfair it was that, for this one day, Bruce couldn't spend it as he pleased. Bruce had never forced a society party on them for any of their birthdays. Those days had always been dedicated to having fun.

As they ate, the chirping of a cricket became more noticeable. Dick snorted into his soup and had to stop and wipe his mouth. Elle was shooting him a dirty look when the cricket in question hopped on the table in front of them. Everyone stared at it for a few seconds before Damian stood up in his chair and used his napkin to scoop the cricket up. He folded it several times and set it next to his bowl.

Jason goggled at him. "You just gonna _leave_ him in there? _In_ your napkin . . . on the table? While we're all eating?"

Damian rolled his eyes. "Of course, I'm not going to just leave him in there," He spoke with that annoying air of superiority that made his brothers teeth grind. "I'll take it up to Mook after lunch. It was better than waiting for you to smash it into the tablecloth with your bare hand like a Neanderthal. I'm certain Pennyworth will thank me for saving the linen from your barbarity."

Jason started to get up. "Why you little . . ."

"So, then," Elle interrupted cheerfully in an obvious effort to avoid a potential argument, "have you all decided what are you getting him for his birthday?"

Dick had been reaching out to calm Jay but Elle's question distracted everyone enough that Jason chose to sit back down and pick up his beer.

Tim shrugged. "We were trying to decide if we were each going to get him a gift separately or go in together for one."

Elle's eyes sparkled. "I can think of a gift, although it isn't anything you would give in the conventional sense."

They stared at her for several seconds, waiting for her to go on with her idea. When she didn't Damian jumped in.

"Well, what is it, Hamilton?" Damian demanded.

"Yeah, Elle," Jason agreed. "Don't keep us in suspense."

Dick elbowed her lightly. "Go on; tell us," he added.

She set down her spoon and leaned forward. "What else can you give a billionaire who has everything?" She paused for effect. "A party, of course!"

They stared at her some more, then almost as one, they all slumped back in their seats.

"And here I thought you were onto something there," Dick complained.

Tim frowned. "We just got finished telling you how much he hated society parties."

Elle grinned. "I wasn't talking about society parties. Who wants to spend your special day with people you don't even like? I was talking about a party with people Bruce actually enjoys hanging out with."

Damian scowled as Jason barked out in laughter.

"That's the thing," Dick told her, "Bruce doesn't actually like hanging out with just anybody."

"That's because Bruce doesn't actually _like_ anybody," Jason smirked.

"That's not true," Elle argued. "He seems to be rather fond of all of you."

Now it was Damian who snorted. "Well, everyone except Todd," he blurted.

Elle flicked him in the ear and the boy yelped. "Be nice. His name ends in Wayne, too, you know."

"Hyphenated," Damian murmured, rubbing his ear.

"Chosen," Elle corrected before anyone else could take umbrage with the youngest for his rudeness.

Damian opened his mouth to refute but hesitated as what she had said penetrated his brain. He closed his mouth because he knew she was right. If none of his older brothers carried the exalted Wayne blood in their veins, they each had still been handpicked by his father to carry his name.

Dick returned to the subject at hand. "Okay, I'll bite. What are you getting at, sweetheart?"

"A surprise party," she announced. "One with masks."

Tim narrowed his eyes as he tried to follow her thought processes . . . Silly boy. She smirked.

"He's a member of the Justice League, is he not?" She asked, meeting each of their gazes.

Jason leaned back in his chair. "Yeah, but I'm not sure I'd go so far as to call them his friends, Elle. He's a part of it only because he doesn't trust the rest of them not to screw up if the earth was invaded again."

"Clark came to Dick's proposal and he came for Christmas," she pointed out.

Dick smiled. "That's because **_I_** invited him and Lois last time. And he didn't really come _for_ Christmas. Bruce called him because Superman was the only one who could put the dent back into your car door before I brought you out to see it."

"Let me ask you something," she said. "If we were to look on Bruce's cell phone, would we find personal phone numbers of any member of the League?"

Dick looked at Jason and Tim. Damian really had only knew the identities of a few League members and had met fewer still face-to-face.

Jason held up his hands. "Don't ask me," he said. "I've been mostly dead for the last few years, and I haven't exactly been keeping up with Daddy's social life since I came back."

But Tim was nodding. "She's right. He has the numbers of every single one of them."

Damian sputtered. "He also has Lex Luthor on his rolodex. That doesn't mean anything!"

"But Lex isn't in his cell phone," Tim asserted.

Elle frowned at that. What had Lex Luthor have to do with anything? she wondered. Even her father had Luthor's name and number memorized like he did most of his business contacts.

Dick was smiling, however. "He's been to dinner with Ollie and Dinah several times," he said.

Jason lifted an eyebrow. "I thought he thought Oliver was an imbecile?"

Dick laughed. "He thinks most people are imbeciles."

"Most _are_ compared to him," Damian added.

"Dick! Damian!" Elle shot the boy a look of reproach but even Tim was grinning.

"No! No, Elle, he's right," Tim said, surprisingly coming to his younger brother's defense. "Most people are far less intelligent than Bruce. He chooses to hide it, though, for the sake of the secret."

"But that doesn't mean he doesn't actually like them," Dick explained to her. "Bruce has a certain mystique about Batman he likes to cultivate. And it totally works for him. When there's an emergency, he can bark at a room full of people, all of them capable of squashing him like a bug, and they all jump to follow his orders."

"Father's not a bug, Grayson," Damian jumped to his father's defense. "He could defeat every single one of them in battle."

Dick didn't deny this. "That's just proving my point, Damian. He can do so only because he _is_ smarter but he also believes in being prepared for any eventuality. Although, he confessed to me once that he wasn't entirely certain he could successfully take on Wonder Woman and win. Hopefully we'll never reach a place where that theory is tested."

"But he likes her anyway, though, doesn't he?" Elle asked. "Wonder Woman?"

The brothers all burst out laughing simultaneously at her question.

"What? What did I say?" She looked around, confused.

Jason was the first to answer her. "Oh, Bruce likes her just fine."

Elle recognized his vocal inflection easily but still glanced at Dick for confirmation. Dick grinned at her.

"He wouldn't mind having Wonder Woman at this party," he smirked.

Tim was still snickering.

"So, is there anyone he truly doesn't like?" she asked, then.

"Guy Gardner," Tim and Dick answered together.

Jason looked at the other two. "What about Hal? I thought Bruce couldn't stand him."

Dick shrugged this time. "Hal's alright when Barry's around, but put Hal and Bruce in a room together without a mediator . . ."

"So, just this Guy Gardner fellow?" she asked. "Will that create any kind of work-related issues if he isn't invited?"

"No worries there," Dick assured her. "Guy's not especially fond of Bruce, either. Besides, I think he's off planet anyway."

Elle did a double-take. "O-Off planet? Seriously? You guys do that?"

"Dick and Bruce have been more than the rest of us. Damian hasn't been yet," Tim said. "But Guy? Yeah, well, that's kind of what Green Lanterns do, you know?"

"Guy is a Green Lantern? Which one? There's more than one, right? I think I remember there being more than just one." Elle looked at each of them, wide-eyed.

She never kept up with this kind of stuff in her old life. The only hero that had ever interested her had been Nightwing, and that was only because she had noted how finely he filled out his spandex the first time she had seen him close up . . . Technically, that had been her and Dick's first meeting, although she hadn't known it at the time. Dick hadn't even known she had been a witness to his taking down of an armed robber.

"Guy's the red-headed mouth," Jason volunteered.

Elle bit her lip. "I don't think I've ever seen him before. My experience with heroes has kind of been limited to you guys, Superman, and to the audience of a show I did once at a VA hospital for military veterans."

Damian turned in his seat. "Are you really serious about inviting the League to a surprise party for Father?"

"There's one problem with this plan of yours, Elle," Tim said. "Not everyone in the League knows who Batman really is."

"Bruce doesn't know who his fellow Leaguers are?"

Dick shook his head. "Bruce knows everyone's secret identity but not everyone knows his," he told her. "He might consider it a risk of his identity if those people were to discover the day of his birth."

"The party doesn't have to fall on the actual day itself. We can do it the day after. Trust me, most people won't give it a second thought." She said.

Tim looked skeptical. "You don't know these people."

"This can still work. Everyone invited will be invited to come in their hero identities . . . _with_ their masks in place."

"Just heroes, then?" Tim clarified.

Elle thought a moment. "Why not let them bring their significant others, too? I mean, if I'm arranging the party, I would like to come, too. Would the Justice League members mind if I came?"

Dick kissed her lightly. "You will be there," he assured her.

"But your identity will be compromised if someone should recognize her, Goldie," Jason pointed out. "Remember, Christmas and New Year's, both of your faces were plastered all over the papers and the news from one end of the country to the other."

"Elle can wear her Nightwing outfit," Damian suggested. "From Halloween! Only a few locals saw her. Neither of your names were actually released to the press."

Jason looked intrigued. "And who will you be if she's Nightwing?" he asked Dick.

"I'll be Nightwing, also," he laughed. "I think we look significantly different so you'll be able to tell us apart from one another."

Elle was excited by the suggestion, however. "That's a terrific idea, Damian," she praised him. "The wives and husbands can come but only with masks that correlate to and match that of the hero they arrived with! This will be perfect!"

Dick shook his head. "This is an interesting idea, Elle, but how are you going to arrange a party for Bruce and plan a wedding at the same time. The League isn't just seven members anymore. The roster is big now."

"I have my master's in business," she reminded him. "I know how to delegate authority when necessary."

Dick blinked at her. "Should I be nervous?"

Tim smiled tentatively. "Are we being serious here? Are we really going to do this?"

"Father will kill us," Damian predicted. "He'll hate it."

"Oho, then, you can definitely count me in," Jason laughed.

"Nonsense," Elle smiled. "Everyone loves a good party, Damian."

Jason shook his head. "You realize he'll never agree to come, don't you? You're going to be disappointed."

"No, I won't," she smirked at them, "because it will be a surprise!"

Dick pursed his mouth, doubtfully. "We're going to die," he declared. "Bruce will kill us if we do this." Jason merely grinned at him.

"You mean Father will kill all of you," Damian corrected.

Elle waved away their prophecies of doom and gloom. "It won't be so bad. You guys can claim that you tried to talk me out of it. It wouldn't be a lie."

"Oh, don't worry," Tim assured her. "We will be sure to tell him whose idea it was."

She grinned, looking around the table at the four of them enthusiastically. "Now," She clapped her hands together. "Let me tell you what I have planned for the entertainment. Trust me; you're going to love it!"

* * *

 **REACTIONS?**

 **They are all spent the rest of the day wondering how it is that she is able to talk them into these things . . .**


	16. The Art of the Deal

**Warning: Strong Language . . .**

* * *

Aiden grew tired of waiting. The bar was loud and filthy, the table at which he sat perpetually sticky with some unknown substance. He had asked the waitress to wipe the table off twice and, if anything, it was even worse than it had been when he sat down. But this is where the person he had talked with on the phone had suggested he be at nine o'clock and it was now midnight. He'd kept his end of the deal and no one had approached him.

He frowned as he looked around. No one had approached him . . . not even the 'ladies'. He looked down at what he wore. Although it wasn't a business suit, it was a far sight better than anyone else in the bar. He wore a hundred-dollar haircut and his nails were manicured. Even if the male clientele were accepting of his distinctly high-end maintenance and chose to leave him alone, surely one of the trollops that catered to the lowlifes here would have tried to pick him up, if nothing else for the drinks he could obviously afford.

But no one did.

It was equally obvious that the person he was to meet had either been watching him for some time or left word that no one was to talk to him. Disgusted at the waste of his time, Aiden collected his jacket and tossed a twenty on the table. He made his way to the door, aware of the eyes that followed him. He considered the idea that one or more of the patrons might decide to accost him on his way to his car but he did more than work out at the gym regularly.

Cedric had chosen to place bodyguards on his precious Bella but he didn't leave Aiden defenseless, either. Aiden had been learning the art of self-defense and combat since he was eight. He still employed bodyguards for his son on occasion but since Aiden had come into his majority, it had been the son's prerogative as to whether or not to continue the service. Aiden kept his men on retainer and called them when necessary. And while many would have considered going to a seedy bar on the wrong side of town necessary, what he was here for didn't need a lot of witnesses.

Perhaps Aiden would see if all those lessons had paid off tonight. He listened for the sounds of footsteps on the pavement. There were some but none consistent. He used the reflections of the darkened windows of the businesses across the street and beside him to check for anyone following him but it appeared to be clear.

Interestingly enough, his rental car he had used for the occasion remained as pristine as when he had driven it off of the lot six hours ago. So, it wasn't merely his person that wasn't to be touched. He shrugged, digging out his keys. He appreciated the effort on his behalf but he'd have appreciated being met far more. A quick glance around and then Aiden was sliding behind the wheel.

He pounded a palm heel into the dash in frustration. The whole evening was a waste of time. Damn it!

"If I'd have known you didn't care about the condition of your rental car, I wouldn't have bothered warning the boys away from it," came a voice from the back seat.

Aiden stiffened. The car had been locked when he had arrived. No annoying car alarm had greeted him when he had exited the bar. He had even glanced into the rear window . . . Or had he? Oh, he had but it was the reflection he had focused on to see if any planned to jump him here. No one had because there had been an assassin sitting in his back seat waiting for him to arrive.

"If you wanted to meet in the parking lot, you should have said something over the phone," Aiden replied with far more calm than he was feeling. The voice behind him had been the same voice he had spoken with over the phone earlier.

"You looked as though you needed a chance to unwind," Deadshot said conversationally. "I'll admit, I thought you would get tired of waiting a lot sooner that you did. You must be serious about this meeting."

"I was," Aiden said, letting the first hints of annoyance creep into his voice. "Now, I'm tempted to say 'Fuck it,' and let you finish what you've already been paid to do."

"If you are expecting me to be surprised by that, you'd be mistaken, Mr. Hamilton. I notice things like the brother of one of my hits attempting to meet with me."

Aiden narrowed his eyes but remained as he was, hands on the steering wheel where the man in the back could see them. His eyes no longer remained staring forward but flipped to the rearview mirror. The man behind him looked normal enough but Aiden wasn't foolish enough to believe what he was seeing resembled the man's regular appearance.

"And do you know why I asked for the meeting?"

"I would assume to beg for your sister's life," Deadshot said easily.

"Half-sister," Aiden clarified out of habit.

An eyebrow rose. "Now, that is interesting. You don't like her."

"No, I don't," he admitted freely.

"And yet you asked for this meeting to attempt to talk me out of killing her and her fiancé." Curiosity edged into the assassin's tone. "I must admit that I assumed that the initial hit must have originated from you, now I'm not so sure. Have you changed your mind or is my employer someone else?"

The leather seat creaked as the man in back stretched out his legs. "Plenty of leg room in the back," he noted. "Nice and comfortable. A bit nicer than most people drive around here but nothing compared to what you are used to, is it, Mr. Hamilton?"

Aiden's mind was moving at the speed of light. So, Deadshot didn't know who his employer's identity was? _He had believed I was behind it_ . . . Aiden considered. _Could this be as easy as just canceling the hit_?

Didn't mean that the person gunning for Bella wouldn't figure this out and place another hit out on her eventually but that likely wouldn't happen until after she had signed over three of their father's businesses to him. At that point, he would lose any opportunity to retrieve the last four from her but he had already admitted to himself that those were forever out of his reach.

Whoever it was who hated his sister as much as he did was more than welcome to finish the deed so long as Aiden already owned as much of his father's legacy as he could manage to get his hands on.

"It's me," Aiden lied smoothly. "Our father's inheritance was split unequally and I recently learned that should my . . . half-sister die, my chances of obtaining an equal share would die with her. I will pay you for your inconvenience, of course."

Silence greeted him and for a long moment, Aiden considered that the man would refuse him. Possibly something to do with his reputation or whatnot.

"You can pay me for the other half of my retainer, in that case," Deadshot told him finally.

 _And what would that number be_? Aiden waited. If he admitted he didn't know, then the world-class assassin in the backseat might decide to round it up to three hits instead of a mere two.

"Deal," he agreed. "I assume you don't take personal checks."

The assassin snorted in amusement. Nice to know Aiden's charm worked with assassins as well as his business associates.

"Not for a rock," Deadshot replied. At Aiden's look of confusion, he asked. "What? You've never watched the Sopranos?"

"Not recently," he murmured, dryly.

"A mil," the assassin explained, bluntly. "I'll contact you."

Aiden pursed his lips. "A million is a little heavy to carry in small denominations. Unless you want me to leave you the keys to the armored truck."

If there was any hesitance on Deadshot's part, Aiden couldn't detect it.

"I'll contact you with an account number," the assassin told him. "You will transfer the funds in at that time."

Aiden suppressed a grimace. He didn't want there to be any connection between him and the assassin. He wasn't really the person that had put up the hit in the first place. If the police got wind of this, Aiden didn't want them to get the idea that he might be the guy who was actually behind it. Now, wouldn't that be ironic?

"I would prefer that my personal phones not be used," Aiden said.

"Is that so? Are you saying you don't want anyone knowing we have a business relationship because that sounds like what you're saying?" The assassin sounded offended.

"That is what I am saying," Aiden bit out, calling his bluff. The man wanted his money. He wouldn't get it if Aiden was dead because the guy got a little miffed. "I have a couple of burner cells in my pocket. You can use one of them to call me on the other."

The eyebrow rose again. "You are a planner, aren't you, Mr. Hamilton?"

"One doesn't get to my position by resting on the laurels of another," Aiden told him.

"Is that so? I was under the impression that was exactly how one in your position did it. Aren't you doing all of this for your daddy's money?" Deadshot asked.

"I am stepping into my father's shoes," Aiden corrected. "I will be continuing what he had started. If I were one of those wastrels that are only interested in the money, I could sell the businesses I own, and live extremely well off of the proceeds, as would my children and their children and their children's children. It is a _lot_ of money, you understand."

The assassin whistled in appreciation. "It sounds like it."

"I plan to run the businesses and make them successful beyond even my father's expectations. If he left me a fortune, I plan to triple it." Aiden recalled himself too late. His angry bragging might have just cost him more than a cool million. Deadshot could increase the sum that he would take in order to make him lay this contract aside.

"I have been schooled," the man said. He didn't sound offended, however, in the least. "Which pocket?"

It took Aiden a half a second to realize Deadshot was talking about the phones. "Right side. Inside pocket."

The assassin cocked a pistol and pressed it to the backside of Aiden's head as he reached over the back of the seat and fumbled for the pocket.

"I could have handed it to you," Aiden offered.

Deadshot tugged the phone free and glanced at it. "If you have a trace put out on this phone, I will kill you . . . for free."

"There's not. The number for the one I keep is programmed into yours," Aiden told him.

"Right." Deadshot slipped the phone into his own pocket and uncocked his pistol. "I'll be in touch."

"Fine. I can transfer the money to you by tomorrow," Aiden tilted his hand so that he could see the glowing face of his watch. "Tonight, I mean, five pm."

"I was under the impression it took time to arrange for all that money to be freed up in order to transfer."

"I began making the arrangements earlier, in preparation for your agreement," Aiden shrugged.

The man behind him smiled, flashing white teeth in the rearview mirror. "I like a man who thinks ahead."

* * *

Bruce knocked on the door to the room that Dick and Elle had designated their office. He had come back this afternoon to a manor nearly deserted. Jason and Damian had given Tim a ride back to his apartment, apparently, after some sort of accident had put Tim on bedrest for a few days. Bruce had been confused until Alfred had mentioned his training session with Elle that morning.

His lips twitched. They had a tendency to do that a lot more these days. The young woman had taken his family by storm and the boat was still rocking from the maelstrom that was Arabella Hamilton. The metaphysical bond that had developed undetected between Elle and his eldest son guaranteed her acceptance into the family. Any choice was taken away when it was explained that to somehow break the bond would result in Elle's death and Dick's life ruined should he survive it but he was coming to understand that no bond was necessary for him to be willing to accept Elle with open arms.

In a matter of months, she had somehow worked miracles, bringing his children back together despite the anger and disagreements that had created walls that separated them all. And to accomplish this gargantuan task, she only had to be herself . . . Her zany, joyful, quirky, klutzy, oddball self. She added a heaping helping of what Bruce suspected was something resembling normality and liberally spiced it with fun.

Bruce, himself, was still reeling from her presence. That Dick had fallen hard for her was no surprise. The devastation of losing her and possibly his son as well should have had Bruce searching high and low for ways around the bond and, while this was an added worry to his list, the payoff at the end of the day was still very sweet indeed.

Dick opened the door with a smile, one that actually reached all the way to his blue eyes. Yes, he thought, this could well be worth it.

"I hear that Elle is becoming quite adept at the bo-staff," Bruce said in lieu of a greeting. He smiled when Elle slumped dramatically and dropped her face into her hands.

"I swear, it was an accident," she lamented, blushing. "I feel so bad for Tim. I feel so bad for anyone who takes on the task of training me in self-defense. I'm like all the plagues of Egypt rolled up into one walking, talking disaster."

"Ah, yes, well, I wouldn't go so far as to say that," Bruce said as he took a seat, "but I did find a cricket in one of my shoes this morning."

Dick burst out laughing.

 _At least_ _ **someone**_ _was still enjoying it_ , he mused. Of course, Bruce found it rather amusing as well whenever he was in the peaceful quiet of his office at work. However, when he squished one in the toe of his favorite shoes, it lost some of its humor. He noted the large stack of papers spread out over the top of Elle's desk.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked politely.

"Elle's attempting to put together a guest list," Dick explained and he plopped down in the chair next to Bruce's. "It's a bit overwhelming at the moment."

"It's a bit impossible," she groused as she shuffled the pile together. "How can I send out invitations to an event when I have no idea where it will be held? How many will it seat? Will I invite too few and the venue feel too open and empty? Too many and we're turning people away at the door . . ."

"I come bearing glad tidings, then," Bruce smiled at them both. "I received a phone call just a little while ago from the pastor of that last church we visited, Dick."

Dick eyebrows raised in surprise. "I thought they were booked up for that weekend."

"Apparently both parties have decided to cancel," he told them.

Dick immediately narrowed his eyes, suspicious. " _Both_ wedding parties cancelled? _This close_ to the wedding date?"

Bruce continued to smile serenely. "A lucky coincidence, isn't it? Fate must be smiling upon you both. I do believe that was the church that you had called 'perfect'," he said smoothly.

"How . . . _lucky_ ," Dick agreed but his eyes were questioning the sudden rain of lucky happenstance. Bruce kept his face a pleasant, neutral expression.

"Really?" Elle squealed in delight. "Dick sent me pictures of the inside of the sanctuary and it's everything I could have hoped for! This could be a dream wedding after all!"

She hopped up and ran around the desk to hug her soon-to-be father-in-law. "Oh my gosh! Bruce, you are amazing!"

If Bruce was still a bit awkward returning her hug, he found it grew easier with practice. He remained careful in maintaining his innocence. "All I did was leave my number with the bishop in case something opened up."

Dick snorted but didn't launch into accusations for which Bruce was thankful. He wanted this day to be happy and as close to perfect as it could be for the couple. If he had to open his wallet and do his part to ensure that, so be it. It wasn't every day he could get Dick to accept his generosity without an argument.

"Well, thank goodness you did. Otherwise some other lucky couple would have gotten to it first," Elle declared. "Come on, Dick! I want to see it in person."

Bruce's smile slipped off of his face. "Just the two of you? Alone?"

Dick shook his head. "I can keep her safe."

"And who keeps _you_ safe?" he asked. "If the same person paying Deadshot is the same as whoever paid Nameless, he would know that you are as much a target as Elle."

Elle moved back to the desk and picked up the phone. "I can fix this," she said as she dialed.

Bruce stood up, glancing between the young woman and his son. "What do you have in mind?" Much to his consternation, Elle turned her back to him and leaned against the edge of her desk. He looked at Dick. "Does she do this often?"

Dick shrugged, not sharing his concern. "More and more as of late. She doesn't care for feeling out of control. It's okay, though," he tried reassuring him. "I know who she is calling."

Bruce eyebrows rose as it occurred to him as well. "Her bodyguards? Hugh and Edward."

"Thanks. We'll be waiting," she murmured and hung up the phone. "They'll be here in twenty minutes." She smiled at Bruce. "They'll be flattered that you remembered their names."

"How could I not? They were ready to frisk us when I showed up at your home in Chicago with the boys," Bruce told her.

She blushed. "Did they? But they know you . . ."

Dick snorted. "They were just angry because you were upset. But they didn't go through with it. After that fiasco with Jason, that's probably a good thing. I'd hate to have seen their faces had they gotten so far as to frisk Damian."

Elle frowned at him. "Damian carries weapons on him when not Robin?"

Dick choked on his laughter. "It's probably best if you don't know everything that boy keeps on his person at any given time."

"I should have another talk with him about that," Bruce grumbled.

But Elle wasn't so easily put off, nor was she oblivious to what Dick had just said. "Will you at least tell me what fiasco you are talking about?"

"Fiasco?" Striving for an innocent tone, Dick gave it a shot. One look, however, said it wasn't working.

"Yes, the one with Jason. Spill it, buster," she demanded. Dick's brief hesitation had her continuing. "You either tell me or I ask Hugh and Edward when they arrive."

"They didn't stay in Chicago?" Bruce asked. He had heard about the fiasco when he had arrived later.

"No, I told them to get a place here in Gotham until the hit's been called off," Elle told him. "Now, one of you had better fess up. What fiasco happened with Jason?"

Dick slid his arms around her and tugged her close, smiling down at her. "Just a little misunderstanding. Quickly taken care of . . ." At her look, he added, "No one got hurt!"

Elle's mouth dropped open and Dick swooped in to kiss her. Bruce took that as his cue to leave. He was almost to the door when they came up for air.

"I know what you're trying to do and it won't wor-mmmph!" Elle attempted to speak only to be cut off in mid-word.

Bruce stepped into the hall.

"Stop that!" Elle yelped.

"You don't really want me to stop, do you?" Dick replied in a low tone.

The only sound was his future daughter-in-law's hum of delight.

No, Bruce thought, amused. She really didn't sound as though she did.

The argument had been put on hold as Bruce closed the door behind him with a smirk. Dick was only delaying the inevitable. He would be smarter to give her his watered-down version than to leave it up to her bodyguards to tell the story. It was bound to sound worse even than the version Bruce had been treated to when he had been told.

* * *

 **REACTIONS?**

 **Could brokering a deal with a hitman be as easy as all that? (Well, if you have a cool mil laying around with nothing to do and nowhere to go, that is.)**


	17. Decisions

**Warning: Language (and an F-bomb. Tsk, that Jason) . . .**

* * *

"I have a favor to ask you," Elle said into the phone. "Yes, we found the church. Dick took me by there yesterday. It's perfect! If you can meet me there tomorrow, I'd appreciate it." She glanced over as the man of her dreams walked through the door. "I've got to go. I'll talk to you, later."

"You don't have to hang up on my account," Dick plopped himself down in the chair across the desk from her as she returned the phone to its base.

Elle slumped back in her chair. "The guest lists are driving me a little crazy. I have no idea how I'm going to get these invitations to the members of the Justice League without Bruce finding out. I mean, where _do_ you send letters to Superman and Wonder Woman?"

Dick smiled. "Superman has a Fortress of Solitude and Wonder Woman is from Themyscira, also known as Paradise Island."

She stared at him for a bit before deadpanning, "So, how much postage are we talking about here?"

He laughed and she threw a wadded-up sheet of paper at him. "No worries, love. I can deliver the invitations for you."

"That's good to know," she smirked. "I wasn't sure the United Postal Service delivered to satellites. Can you manage it without Batman finding out?"

Dick walked around the desk and kissed her temple. "Sweetheart, you are looking at the only Robin who managed to sneak out of the manor without Bruce or Alfred discovering it."

She looked up at him, interested. "You snuck out of the manor."

"The manor? Hell, darling, I could sneak out of the Batcave without getting caught," Dick grinned.

"You can?"

He looked a little sheepish. "Well, probably not anymore. Bruce's upgraded the security measures of both since then."

"That happened because of you, didn't it?" she asked knowingly.

He shrugged and chuckled. "Eventually, Bruce caught on. Maybe I grew a little too arrogant of my skills but for whatever reason Bruce overhauled the entire thing before the end of my junior year in high school. He's been monitoring and updating his security on a regular basis ever since."

"Did he confront you?"

"You could call it that. Nothing like sneaking back in to find Batman waiting for you in your bedroom," he snorted. "Yeah, I was almost grounded until graduation for that. I've never admitted how many times I had managed it before he figured it out. I value my life, thank you very much."

"Grounding? That's it?" Elle grinned. "Somehow I thought Batman's punishments would be . . . I don't know, more intimidating, less mundane."

"I'm almost afraid to ask what you were imagining him doing," Dick said as he settled on the edge of the desk in front of her.

She shrugged now. "I don't know exactly," she laughed. "I had some hazy images of chains, bats, and medieval torture devices."

He barked with surprised laughter. "Do I need to worry about our future children? Bruce hadn't a clue about parenting when he took me in. He read a few self-help books and looked to the other parents as examples."

"So, you're the one I have to thank for the drastic, crazy-paranoid security system during my tenure as Robin?"

The couple turned to see Jason standing in the doorway.

"You don't knock?" Dick grouched at him.

"You left the door open," Jay countered.

"I did not," Dick snapped.

Jason walked in and flopped down in the chair Dick had been sitting in earlier. "Whatever, open . . . locked. Same difference in this house," he smirked, propping his boots atop the desk casually. "Thought I might get lucky and interrupt something."

Dick frowned at him. "Get your damned boots off the desk!"

"Fuck off." Jason put his hands behind his head and smiled.

"Please?" Elle asked softly.

The boots thumped to the floor but Dick still glared at him.

"Why did you do it for her and not for me?" he complained. "At least, we're related."

"Not by choice, Goldie," Jason reminded him. "And she's prettier than you," he laughed, "although not by much. How much product do you use in your hair to get it to lay like that, anyway? I'd probably have to dabble in crime again to be able to afford your hair products alone."

Dick threw Elle's paperwad at him and hit him in cheek. He rolled his eyes. The dumbass would have caught it if he hadn't been making eyes at Dick's fiancée.

Jason rubbed a hand over the offended spot but grinned at his future sister-in-law. "Good thing you're loaded, chica, cause otherwise, you'd have to take a second job to afford this bozo. Goldie here is what you might call high-maintenance."

Dick picked up the stapler but Elle took it out of his hands. She shook her head in amusement. "Did you two always get along this well?"

"Nah," Jay told her. "We used to dislike each other."

"What are you doing here, Jay?" Dick asked warily. "And why didn't you come through the window like last time?"

"What? And have to contend with the demon-child?" he asked. "I remember the last time had the entire household in here."

"So, you came looking for me specifically?"

"No. I came looking for _her_ ," Jason corrected.

"Me?" Elle looked surprised.

Dick frowned. "Why were you looking for Elle?" he asked suspiciously.

"I have some people I'm looking into that prefer to do business in odd places," Jason admitted. "I need a cover."

"What's a cover?" Elle leaned forward, fascinated.

"No," Dick said.

Jason ignored his brother and leaned forward to speak directly with Elle. "Someone that will make my being there seem legit. I need you to be my date for the evening."

" _No_ ," Dick said louder.

Elle ignored her fiancée and asked, "How will _my_ going with you make this legit? Where are you going, anyway?"

" ** _No_** ," Dick snapped.

"It's a karaoke bar," Jason explained. "I mean it kind of makes sense. With all those people singing on top of the normal bar noise, the less likely it is for these guys to be overheard."

"Jason," Dick said warningly.

"And you want me to get up and sing karaoke," Elle concluded. "So that it looks like you were there to support your girlfriend's passion for singing."

"Elle, no," Dick glared at her. "You can't seriously . . ."

"Exactly! I knew you were smart." Jason smiled and leaned back in his seat. "Why are you with Dickweed again when you could be with me?"

Dick swung his head around to glare at Jason. "You piece of . . ."

"Sounds like fun," Elle declared. "I'll do it!"

Dick swung his head back toward her. "What? No, you won't!"

"Great! I'll call you when I find out when the meeting is set," Jason grinned.

Dick slammed his fist down on the desk, making things rattle and the cup holding pens and pencils tipped over. Silence followed with only the sounds of writing utensils rolling off the desk and hitting the carpet to disturb it. Jason stood up when Dick shoved the second chair out of his way.

" _Are you crazy_?" he snarled. "People are out to kill her and you want to take her into the middle of a drug deal?"

"Dick, stop," Elle stood up and made her way around the desk.

"It's not a drug deal," Jason said, defensively. "These guys are into human trafficking. They're dirty and I want to get them off the streets."

"Human trafficking? And you want to have Elle get up and sing in front of them?" Dick grabbed Jason's jacket. "You _want_ their attention to be on her?"

"What? So, she can sing! That's what makes her the perfect cover," Jay argued.

" _She's a **Siren**_! Her voice is captivating to humans," Dick stated slowly as if talking to an imbecile. He was beginning to believe he was. "What if they decide they want _her_?"

Jason scoffed. "I'd protect her, numb-nuts! What kind of person do you think I am?"

"The kind that would get so caught up in your mission that you might forget about the woman you brought in to distract the bad guys from you," Dick growled.

Jason shoved him off. "You son-of-a-bitch!"

"Guys, stop it," Elle rushed to get between them.

"Use someone else," Dick told him. "Use Kori! You want a distraction? Kori could distract a blind man and she can at least protect herself from creeps like these."

Jason gaped at him. "Don't be an idiot! You know as well as I do that Kori can't sing worth shit! I need someone who can grab their attention well enough that I can plant a bug on them."

"Neither can most of the people that do karaoke," Dick countered. "Sing the song yourself, then."

At this Jason laughed. "Have you seen the kind of men who sing at these places? They'd never believe a guy like me would be caught dead in a place like that if it weren't for his girlfriend dragging his ass there."

Elle frowned. "That's not exactly true, Jason. I know a lot of guys who sing karaoke."

Jason smiled at her. "Doesn't matter, Elle. There would still be the problem of who would be planting the listening device while I was busy yodeling up on stage."

"Find someone else," Dick demanded.

"No," Elle interrupted. "Dick, this is my decision. I _want_ to help him."

"Elle, be reasonable," Dick snapped at her.

"Think of all those women and children," she reminded him. "How can I not help? It won't be dangerous. I'll only be singing one song."

"Elle, you don't understand. You're not one of us," Dick told her. "You could get hurt."

She jerked back as if he had slapped her and stared at him. "I'm going do this," she said finally. Turning, she looked at Jason. "You have my cell number?"

He nodded. Clearing his throat, Jason sighed. "Maybe Goldie is right," he said to her, softly. "Maybe I should find someone else."

"Thank God, someone finally is being sensible," Dick declared.

Elle frowned at Jason. "A moment ago, you thought I was perfect for this. What changed your mind?"

"He has a point, Elle," Jay admitted. "If something were to go wrong . . . I wouldn't want to be the one responsible for you getting hurt."

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm _doing_ this," she hissed and poked him in the chest. "You understand me?"

Jason blinked at her and nodded.

Elle shoved Jason out of her way and stormed out of the room.

Jason looked at Dick and shrugged. "I'm sorry. When I heard this would be going down in a karaoke bar, Elle just seemed like the perfect diversion."

"Well, it's too late to back out now," Dick groused.

"Look, I'll watch out for her," he promised.

"You won't have to," Dick snapped, "because I'm going with you."

Jason made a face. "Ah, that's not a good idea. Third wheel and all that. Might as well just show up by myself in that case."

"Deal with it!" Dick shoved his way past him and walked out, presumably to go after his fiancée.

Jason glanced around the room but there was no more reason to hang out now. If he was lucky, he might be able to slip out of the house without any of the other residents ever realizing he had been there.

* * *

Elle didn't take a walk. She went back into their bedroom and made straight for her bedside table. Pulling out the drawer she found what she was looking for . . . The shell. The communication device that Arthur Curry had given to her so that she could talk to him when she had questions.

She had one now.

Sliding the shell into her pocket, she grabbed her jacket and peeked out. Jason was closing the door to their office and then started walking down the hall by himself. Dick was either still in the room or he stormed off himself. She was angry and he knew she needed a minute or two to calm down before he tried to talk with her again. If he was heading out to walk off his own steam, she might as well stay here. It would give her a few more minutes to herself to do this.

Their bond allowed them to feel what the other person was feeling. He had to know her determination. She knew of his fear for her. Her self-esteem issues still continued to confuse him because he thought she was perfect. The thought made her smile slightly but it fell away.

Elle wasn't perfect. If she were perfect, he wouldn't have thought twice about letting her help Jason with his information gathering. A karaoke bar? She would be in her element. Jason had been correct in thinking she would be the best and most logical choice to take with him. But Dick thought she would be liability, that she would get hurt, that her self-defense skills were so lacking that she couldn't be trusted to remove herself from a dangerous situation.

She wasn't one of them . . .

There! Dick had come right out and said it.

Elle knew that he was correct. She would never be one of them. Even if she had the strength and power, she hadn't the temperament to be a crimefighter like the rest of the family . . . like Babs or Kori. She wouldn't handle the stress well. Violent confrontations were not her thing. Hadn't she just told Tim that the other day?

She might become a part of the Wayne family but she'd never be a part of the Bat family. She wasn't one of _them_. Honestly, she didn't want to be either . . . So, why did it hurt so badly when Dick had merely stated what she had always known herself?

Because he admired strong women.

And Elle wasn't strong.

Not yet.

But she would be.

She turned the shell over in her hand and activated it. Then, she waited.

It didn't take long. Arthur's voice came through. It sounded funny through the shell, like he was talking underwater. Elle didn't know how to do that yet, at least not in a way that allowed her to be understood. But she was smart; she could learn.

"I want to come to Atlantis," she spoke into the shell. "I want to learn about Sirens. If it is possible, I want to meet one of my own kind. There are still a few of them left, aren't there?"

"Have you spoken to Dick about this yet?" came Arthur's response.

She felt a flash of temper that she quickly tamped down.

"I understand that we can be apart for a few weeks without there being a problem," she told him. "That's all I want. Just a couple of weeks and then I'll come back home. I need this, Arthur. I need to understand what I am and what I'm capable of becoming."

For a long minute, she thought Arthur would refuse her outright. But then he answered her.

"Alright. I'll arrange something. When would be a good time for you?"

The wedding was right around the corner. She was too busy at the moment but a few weeks after that . . .

"After the wedding," she said. "Which, by the way, you are invited to. I'm not sure where to send your invitation."

"I'd be honored," Arthur said. "May I bring my wife with me? Mera is anxious to meet you."

"Of course, she's invited as well," Elle assured him.

"Dick would know how to get the invitation to me," he told her. "How soon after the wedding are you talking about? Surely, the two of you will want a honeymoon."

"A couple of weeks after the wedding would be fine," Elle said. "Mid to late April, I think."

"There will be some things we'll have to consider. I know you can breathe fine beneath the water but I don't know how much pressure you can take. Atlantis, you must realize, is on the bottom of the ocean. Being more human and so far removed from your Atlantian heritage, I wonder if you might have trouble with that," Arthur told her. "Let me see what can be done to accommodate your special needs."

 _Special needs_? Arthur made it sounded like she was physically handicapped. But compared to a full-blooded Atlantian, Elle supposed she was.

"You've been there before, haven't you?"

Arthur chuckled. "Indeed, I have, more than once, in fact."

"Are you underwater right now?" Elle knew he was but wanted to hear this from him.

"I am, actually. I like to spend as much time in the water as out of it."

Elle smiled. She knew that feeling even if she didn't get much opportunity to indulge it. "I'll send your information along with Dick, then. I'll contact you later to see about the details of the trip to Atlantis."

"That would be fine. Congratulations on the upcoming nuptials. I look forward to seeing you in person at that time." Arthur said.

"Arthur? Thank you. You cannot know how much this means to me," Elle told him.

"I might have an idea about that," he said, "and you are most welcome."

Elle slipped the shell back into the drawer feeling nervous and relieved all at the same time. It was disconcerting but she was determined to learn everything she could about herself. Maybe one day, Dick would admire her, too, as he did the women who fought alongside him.

* * *

 **REACTIONS?**

 **Hey! I never said it would be good decisions . . . But who knows? Maybe it will all work out. Right? Right?**


	18. The Battle

**Warning: Language . . .**

* * *

Dinner was quiet. Everyone could tell there was some trouble in paradise but no one had the nerve to ask what it was. When Bruce excused himself to work in the Batcave before he left on another never-ending patrol, Elle borrowed Dick's phone and dialed a number, then she put it on speaker. Tim picked up on the third ring.

"Am I interrupting something," Elle asked apologetically.

"Nah," Tim answered sprightly enough. "The phone was just in the other room. I'm not as fast as I used to be unlike some people who can heal in a day."

Elle smiled. "Why do I feel like I should apologize for that as well?"

Tim laughed. "Don't. I was just feeling a little jealous of that particular talent. What's up? Looking for another bo-staff lesson?"

She rolled her eyes and then met the gazes across the table from her. Dick and Damian were watching her suspiciously. It only proved that they had good intuition.

"I was wondering if you could come back over to the manor tomorrow? Around 10 am would be good," she suggested.

"I, uh, yeah, I suppose I could. I might need a ride," Tim stuttered. "What's happening tomorrow?"

"Practice," Elle announced.

"But you said . . ."

"Not the bo-staff," she added quickly. "Remember the party and the entertainment?"

Dick and Damian's eyes widened in response. She could almost see Tim's face doing the same.

"Oh . . . Um, you were _serious_ about that?" Tim asked a little weakly.

Elle blew out a breath in frustration. "Come on, it isn't _that_ bad! You all act like I'm asking you to burn down an orphanage or mug an old lady or something."

Tim's laughter came through sounding a little tinny through the speaker phone. "Right. It's not _that_ bad . . ."

"Speak for yourself, Drake," Damian huffed.

"So, you'll be here?" Elle continued despite Damian's outburst.

"I'll be there," came his reply with a sigh.

If Tim sounded a bit resigned, she shrugged it off. None of the boys had been enthusiastic about her plan but they had agreed in a moment of weakness and Elle was not above ruthlessness in order to get what she wanted.

"See you then, Tim. Thanks," Elle chirped as she hung up and then searched out Jason's number.

"You know, I haven't passed out the invites yet," Dick told her. "We could still call this whole thing off."

"If you all would just trust me on this," Elle said without looking up. "You'll see. Bruce wouldn't want to miss this for the world."

Damian scowled. "What would that be? Watching his sons make fools of themselves in front of the entire Justice League? Yeah, I could totally see how embarrassing him in front of his colleagues would be a worthy aspiration of a hero like the Batman."

They could hear the ringing of the phone again.

"You know, that's a good idea, Damian," Elle said as she set the phone down on the table.

Damian frowned. "What's a good idea?" He glanced at Dick who shrugged.

"We should videotape the whole thing," Elle announced.

"Wait! _What_? I didn't say _that_!" Damian shot Dick a panicked look. "I didn't _say_ that!"

Dick leaned his elbows on the table and dropped his face into his hands. "Doesn't matter anymore, Damian. She already has it in her head."

"Argh," Damian dropped his head against the back of his chair. "This will be the worst night ever!"

"Oh, ye of little faith." Elle stuck out her tongue at the two of them even as Jason picked up. The sounds of fighting and things being smashed could be heard in the background.

"Not a good time," he yelled.

Elle looked up at Dick startled. "Oh! Um, are you okay?" she asked Jay.

"Sure. Never better," Jason said followed by sounds of gunfire. "What's up? Make it fast. I'm kind of in the middle of something here."

"I, uh, I . . ." she stammered, looking at Dick helplessly. "Oh my gosh, what do I do?" she asked him in a panicky stage-whisper. She nudged the phone a little closer to him.

Dick smirked, taking over the call. "Do you need backup?" he asked loudly so Jason could hear him over whatever was going on there.

"Nah, I'm good. Get to the point, though, will ya?"

"We wanted to know if you could show up here around 10 am tomorrow," Dick continued. Elle appeared to be in the midst of a mild freak out.

"Gah! Why so early?" Jay yelped. "Oho, you have to be quicker than that to get the best of Red Hood!" A grunt was heard followed by a heavy thud.

"Because that's when we need you," Dick said calmly.

More gunfire, more crashing, more screaming and then silence. Jason sighed. "Is it important?"

Elle's eyes were huge. She didn't speak but nodded.

"Yeah," Dick told him. "It's important. Show up on time if you still want company for your shindig."

"Damn. Right, okay, then. I'll be there but there'd better be coffee," Jason agreed crabbily. "I'm _not_ a morning person."

Elle nodded again. Dick smirked. "There'll be coffee. Ten o'clock, Hood," he reminded him.

"Got it. Anything else?"

"Nope. Enjoy your evening." Dick smiled and leaned back in his chair. He waved a finger in the direction of the phone and Elle disconnected the call gingerly, as if she were afraid something would grab her through the phonelines. "You okay?" he asked her.

"I can't believe he picked up the call in the middle of a fight," she murmured.

Dick shrugged. "Jay was always something of a multitasker."

Elle started laughing, so what if it sounded vaguely hysterical. "Oh, my God! What am I getting myself into?"

Dick slid out of his seat and moved around the table to pull her up into his arms. She sagged against him and tucked her face into his neck.

"Is it too much?" he asked, worriedly.

It was why he had wanted to keep his identity secret from her for as long as possible despite her need to know about what they did. As much as she was fascinated with the knowledge that his family were night time vigilantes, she really wasn't of his world. It was why he had always preferred to date women within the superhero community. They handled the stress easier than a civilian might.

She sighed. "No. No, it isn't too much. It was just . . . unexpected, is all. I'm sure I'll get used to it . . . eventually." She giggled again.

Dick smiled down at her. "What now?"

"I was imagining calling you in the middle of something like that and asking you to pick up a loaf of bread and a gallon of milk on your way home," she snickered at the thought.

Dick chuckled as Damian rolled his eyes.

"You two have an entire wing to get all cozy in now," the boy said disgusted with their cuddling. He hopped down and headed down the hall. "I'm going to warm up downstairs before patrol. You coming with us tonight?"

Dick dipped his head and looked at Elle. "You mind?"

She stepped back and shrugged. "I'm good here if you want to go."

"Alfred will be here if you need anything. Milk . . . Bread, just call and I head home right away," he told her.

Elle shook her head. "Why would you do that? I promised I wouldn't call you while you're patrolling except for emergencies."

Dick sobered remembering the last emergency. She hadn't called him but 911. "I _want_ you to call me if you need me. I don't care what the reason is."

She shook her head again, a little more vigorously. "No. Only if it is an emergency. I promised."

Dick looked torn. There was still a contract out on the both of them. He would be safe enough as Nightwing. Deadshot didn't know his identity but he would likely know Elle's whereabouts. The manor was protected but a bullet could still get to her, the windows weren't bulletproof. Maybe he could talk to Bruce . . .

"Maybe I'd better stay home," he muttered. "There are still people after us."

"You haven't been out on patrol for weeks now," Elle said. "Leslie gave you the thumbs up a couple of days ago. I know you've been getting antsy. You should go."

"I don't like leaving you alone," he complained.

"You just reminded me that Alfred is here, so I'm not alone. I can work on the lists and get the invitations ready while you're gone."

"Hm," he murmured, obviously torn. "You could work on them downstairs," he suggested. "Alfred could help."

Elle grinned at him. "Now, you're just being ridiculous." She kissed his chin. "But I love you for it. Go! Go be Nightwing and save the world!"

"Not the world," he corrected. "Just Gotham tonight. Although I'll need to make a trip to Bludhaven soon before the riffraff believe I'm gone for good and take over."

"I'll be down before you leave to wish you luck," she promised.

"You'll be down before I leave to get a glimpse of me in my costume," he said, knowingly.

Her eyes twinkled mischievously. "Hm, yes," she murmured teasingly. "There is _that_."

"You're such a pervert," he laughed at her.

"Just for you, my love," she smiled at him happily, her earlier temper long forgotten. "Only for you."

He caught her face and rewarded her loyalty with a kiss. Elle's hands around his waist slipped lower.

"Hey! Are you coming down or not . . . Oh, ugh! Gross!" Damian made gagging noises. "Jeez, get a room, you two."

Elle jerked her hands back around but they both started laughing. Damian turned on his heel and left as quickly as he had arrived.

"I'm coming, Dami. Keep your tights on," Dick called over his shoulder. He winked at Elle. "Give him another couple of years. It won't seem so gross to him then."

Elle's eyes widened as she realized something. "Oh, my gosh! Can you imagine, Damian in the throes of teenage angst?"

Dick shuddered dramatically. "Considering how he is already . . . _That_ is a scary thought."

He gave her a quick peck on her forehead and followed his little brother to the Batcave.

* * *

After Dick and the others had left, Elle wandered up to their rooms and entered the office. Her phone was buzzing as she entered. Frowning, she slapped her back pocket but, of course, it wasn't there as she could see it on the desk. She ran over to pick it up.

"Hello?"

"I've been trying to reach you for an hour, damn it!"

"Nice to talk to you, too, Aiden," she sighed as she sat down. "I forgot my phone. My apologies."

Her brother grunted. "It's done. And you owe me a million on top of the companies."

She blinked. It had only been a few days. "It's over? You're sure?"

"I just transferred the money to an offshore account a couple of hours ago. From what I can tell, he's the only one after you," Aiden told her. "Now, when do you uphold your end of the bargain."

"I have the paperwork all ready for the transfer. You can wait until next week or you can come to Gotham and pick it up earlier." Elle unlocked the bottom drawer and pulled the bundle of legal documents out. "I've already worked it out with the board; they won't give you any trouble. The documents only need your notarized signature."

"What about the building?" Aiden asked, referring to Hamilton Industries headquarters.

"It's yours," Elle told him. "You will be pleased to know that I will be changing the name of my four companies to reflect my ownership and moving my company base closer to my home. I'll leave the name, Hamilton Industries, to you."

Her brother whistled. "How did all of this go over with the board?"

"They dealt with it. I can be pretty convincing when my heart is set on something," she admitted.

"Huh, so I heard. Do I want to know how you finagled this? Dad was pretty clear in his will," Aiden murmured.

"Poppa's probably rolling over in his grave, I'm sure, but I never agreed with his actions and he knew exactly how I felt about the matter," she muttered.

It had taken a great deal of doing, both on the phone and in person, while under the guise of meeting with psychiatrists. She felt a twinge of guilt about keeping Dick in the dark about it. He knew how she felt on the matter, though, and she didn't think he would care one way or the other about what she did with her inheritance. But Elle considered it a Hamilton family matter and dealt with it as such. She had always kept Hamilton family business quiet and locked away from prying eyes before. It would be difficult to break those habits now. But soon it wouldn't matter since she would no longer be a 'Hamilton' officially.

Her father and mother were gone. There was nothing holding her to Chicago except for the business. If Aiden was satisfied, he would leave her alone. She would keep half of the business, move it closer, and make a new family, this one without ugly jealousies and hated sibling rivalries. Hopefully, Dick would understand.

She continued, "I might have to go to Chicago for another meeting or two before the split is completed, after that we are done. If we happen to meet at a public function, we will deal with one another with civil formality and go on. No ugliness for the press. I'm sure they will write whatever they wish anyway but without our input. Agreed?"

"Hopefully, we won't meet in public," Aiden groused. "But that will be agreeable."

"I'll do my upmost to stay out of Chicago and out of your way," Elle told him.

"What about the house? Are you selling it?"

Elle was silent for a long time. "I . . . don't know yet."

Aiden grunted. His way of saying goodbye, she supposed. "Be in contact with you when I get to Gotham. Answer your damned phone this time," he said and hung up.

"Hate you, too, brother dear," Elle muttered into the ether as she ended the call and tossed the phone amidst the scattered papers of her guest lists.

It was almost over with. She leaned back in the chair and ran her hands through her hair. Almost done! She reveled in the almost-freedom from the quiet horrors of her early home life and welcomed the promise of the future that beckoned her. No more hiding in the shadows.

This called for a celebration. Elle pulled up a list of restaurants in the Gotham area that served surf and turf. She made a face as she made reservations for two for tomorrow night. Dick would have his surf, and she would hunch her shoulders and force herself to enjoy her turf this time but, next time, he was going to eat his seafood without her.

Personally, Elle would have been happier to eat a charcoal dinner for him than this. _Ugh_! What one had to do for love . . . But maybe Dick wouldn't be so ticked at her for going to Aiden to stop the assassination attempts if . . .

"Oh, who am I kidding? Dick's going to kill me for this."

The silence that followed was broken by the sound of a cricket chirping and spurred Elle to rush into the other room and bring out Mook. The tarantula enjoyed hunting for his prey. Elle could stand guard so that the spider wouldn't get away from her. Last thing she needed was for Mook to get lost in the enormity of the manor. She watched as he tracked down the errant insect but at least there would be one less of the annoying insects to drive people crazy. Everyone would be a little happier for that.

Well, everyone except the cricket, she supposed.

* * *

"How're you feeling?" Bruce caught up with Dick before he made off toward his room in the other wing. "First night back out as Nightwing?"

"I should be asking you that. Maybe tonight you can catch up on some much needed sleep." Dick said.

Bruce scrubbed a hand over his face. "Looking forward to it," he admitted, exhausted. "But you never answered my question. How are you feeling?"

Dick smiled. "Never better. It felt good to be back but also a little odd."

"Odd? How's that?"

Dick paused on the landing. "Running rooftops in Gotham. With the exception of that night four months ago, it's been a while."

Bruce nodded. "It was nice having you back, though. I missed working with you. The night went rather smoothly despite you having been absent so long. Might never have known you ever left."

Dick laughed. "The magic is still there, isn't it? But you've got a new Robin now. Another one . . . Although, I have to say, Damian's doing pretty well, all considering. Still a bit of a hothead."

"He'll learn. We butt heads a lot. Alfred claims it is because we're too much alike," Bruce rubbed the back of his neck. "While you're here, it would do him good to learn from you for a change. You've always been better with him than I have."

"Sure, I can do that," Dick nodded. "Maybe I can learn something new from him as well."

"He seems inordinately fond of you for all he claims to hate the smiles, the teasing, and the affection that you always bring with you," Bruce smirked.

"He's become inordinately fond of Elle, you mean," Dick shrugged easily. "For all that Talia and the League of Assassins trained him, he's still just a child, Bruce. Despite what he claims, Damian craves what he's been missing all these years. Elle's proven that. She gives him that acceptance he wants and the affection he needs no matter that he pretends to sneer at it. He could just as easily avoid her if it truly bothered him."

Bruce hummed at Dick's theory. "But instead, he searches her out and stands still for it when she insists on hugging him. Although, I'm sure you are right, somehow, I don't think he would accept that sort of thing from the rest of us."

"He will," Dick assured him. "He brushes me off but it is only _after_ I've gotten in at least one good squeeze," he said, laughing. "Damian knows Elle is emotional and, as such, he knows that she will lavish him with love. Although, he pretends to tolerate it, he still soaks it all up like a sponge and keeps coming back for more."

"Yes, but I wonder if it is too late for me to start giving him a bit of that now," Bruce frowned as he looked off in the distance. "Would he think that shows of affection a sign of weakness coming from me?"

Dick slapped him on the shoulder. "You've never been very affectionate, and even when you tried, it came off as awkward. I could always tell you were uncomfortable doing that sort of thing."

"That isn't exactly a ringing endorsement for a father, is it?"

"I've always known it," Dick smiled, "even if you couldn't say it."

"I don't suppose it's too late to work on that," he murmured.

"Well, don't hurt yourself," Dick teased. "If you wanted to throw the word my way, I certainly wouldn't have a problem with it. But maybe you should start small. You know, a head rub or a pat on the back. I always been fond of those shoulder squeezes."

Bruce looked at his eldest. For all that Dick had been with him the longest, he had gotten more than his fair share of Bruce's temper and indifference at times. He clasped his son on the back of his neck.

"I'll work on it," he teased and then yawned. "But now I'm for bed."

"It's late. Elle's probably awake and waiting on me," Dick told him.

"Does she do that every time you go out?"

"Most of the time," he grinned. "But I find I don't mind it as much as I thought I might. She's not a morning person, thank God!"

Bruce watched Dick climb the steps towards his and Elle's wing. When he was almost to the top, he called out to him. Dick glanced back over his shoulder.

"Love you, son."

Dick's eyes widened as he froze. Then, suddenly, he grinned.

"Love you, too . . . _Dad_ ," he said. Dick waved good night and disappeared down the hallway opposite.

* * *

Bruce yawned again as he walked into his room. The household was asleep and Gotham as safe as he was able to make her for the night. Good thing since he was exhausted. Too many long nights and too many meetings during the day.

Tonight's challenge had been a gang rivalry that had extended more than two blocks down by the waterfront. It had taken three of them, plus GCPD's finest, two hours to break it up. He had been grateful for Nightwing's assistance. They had all been dragging by the time they reached the Batcave but he noticed that Dick's steps grew lighter as they entered the manor rather than flagging as had his and Damian's. But then Dick wasn't heading to an empty bed.

Bruce might have been a touch jealous if he weren't so damned tired. An empty bed looked fantastic to him at the moment. He had given orders to Alfred, letting the butler know that he was sleeping in in the morning. He turned out the light and pulled the fresh sheets up to his neck, settling in to sleep when he heard it.

Chirp . . .

Chirp . . .

Chirp . . .

His eyes popped open.

Chirp . . .

Chirp . . .

He sat up and turned on the light.

Silence. He waited a couple of minutes but the sound didn't return. Sighing, he turned the light back off and slid back into bed with a huff this time. His eyes closed and was almost asleep when he noticed it again.

Chirp . . .

Chirp . . .

Chirp . . .

Bruce leaned over and flipped on the light again. The cricket's chirp stopped in response. Bruce waited with his hand on the lamp. When the insect didn't continue, he turned the light off once more.

The chirping began before his head hit the pillow. Growling, Bruce sat up and flicked on the light a third time. The chirping stopped. Bruce frowned as he listened.

Perhaps it was the light that made the difference. He preferred darkness but Bruce was so tired that he knew a little light wouldn't prevent him from falling asleep. He rolled over and tugged the covers up again. Quiet reigned supreme and he sighed, content at last.

Chirp . . .

Chirp . . .

Chirp . . .

With a snarl, Bruce leaned up and threw his pillow across the room. The chirping ceased for an entire sixty seconds. Frustration mixed with exhaustion put Bruce's emotions over the top as he climbed out of bed. There was only one way to fix this . . . He stood in the middle of the room and listened to the sounds of chirping, turning his head this way and that to get a bead on the infuriating insect.

There! It was coming from behind the drapes.

Bruce crossed the room and jerked the drapes aside and blinked. No cricket. The chirping continued, however, and he snapped his head to the side. The cricket was on the move. He shoved the small upholstered chair out of his way and thought he caught a glimpse of the beast moving behind his dresser.

"Oho, you are not escaping me that easily," he snarled as he lunged after him.

Bruce grunted with the effort to move the heavy dresser away from the wall. The small chest on the top of the dresser slid off and crashed to the floor, spilling out numerous tie tacks and expensive cufflinks and assorted watches.

"Damn it!" Bruce moved to pick up the spilled jewelry when the cricket chirped as if taunting him. "Come back here, you little bastard!"

Bruce stepped over the chest. He could tend to it once he had caught the cricket. He bent to scoop the insect up when it hopped at the last second, nearly overbalancing him in the process. The cricket disappeared beneath the bed.

Lying down on the floor, Bruce lifted the bed skirt and peered into the darkness. The cricket was just ahead, its back to the hunter. Bruce thrust out an arm and the cricket hopped just out of reach. But he was close to the side of the bed. Bruce crawled around, using the bed skirt to hide his movements and then he repeated the move. This time, the cricket didn't hop.

It didn't hop because it didn't have to. It sat just beyond the reach of Bruce's fingers. It didn't even flinch, as if it knew in its little, buggy brain that the man after it couldn't reach it where it rested. Bruce looked over and saw his bedroom slippers nearby. He quietly reached for one of them and taking aim, attempted to throw it at the insect. The shoe wasn't aerodynamic and wasn't made for throwing in such tight quarters, but it landed where Bruce wanted it to . . . Only to have the cricket hop towards the head of the bed milliseconds before the slipper would have squished it.

"Why, you . . ." Bruce groused and shoved himself to his feet. "You're not getting away this time."

He pulled the bedside table out from the wall to make room. The lamp toppled but Batman's lightning-fast reflexes caught it inches away from the floor. He set it down and moved back to the bed. The insect, obviously feeling safe, had started chirping again but Bruce would take care of that. He grabbed the edge of the box springs and lifted, shoving it and the mattress off of the bed's frame. Pillows went tumbling off the other side, and the blankets and linens were in a tangled mess.

The cricket was barely a foot from his left big toe. Bruce dived for it and it jumped out from the center of his hands and between his legs. He spun around as it moved off into the room and darted after it, only to have his foot catch on the lamp cord still stuck into the wall. Bruce crashed to the floor, the electrical cord yanked out of the wall and the lamp jerked off its base. The smaller crash was punctuated by the sweet, tinkling sounds of a lightbulb shattering on the Aubusson carpet.

The cricket was inches from Bruce's face. He went to slap at it but with its usual efficiency, Jiminy hopped an impressive height over Bruce's head. He felt it on his pajama top. The beastie had landed on him! Bruce yelled and rolled over but the insect continued to elude him. It headed back into the other direction, using the mattresses and bedlinen to cover its tracks.

Scrambling up, Bruce leapt for it again, yelping loudly when his toe slammed into the dresser. Annoyed, Bruce shoved the piece of furniture out of his way, ignoring it when a couple of drawers fell out, dumping its contents on the floor next to the pile of watches. He could pick all this stuff up and put it away before Alfred came in to wake him.

Right now, the most important thing was getting that cricket!

Climbing over the mattress and the mound of blankets, Bruce stumbled and slammed into the wall but his eyes found the little bugger as he crawled into the relative safety of the closet.

"Oh no! You made this personal," Bruce was warning him when his bedroom door eased open a bit.

* * *

The door caught on the back edge of the dresser with a thud as Damian stuck his head through the opening. The boy's room sat on the other side of the hall from Dick's and was just on the other side of Jason's. Despite the distance, the sounds of battle emanating from his father's bedroom had woken him.

"Father?" Damian asked. His eyes surveyed the disaster with growing concern. "I heard noises."

"Fine, fine, Damian. Everything is fine," Bruce answered gruffly. The cricket was going to get away. "Go back to bed. I have this covered."

Damian tried to step further into the room but couldn't quite squeeze past the dresser. Bruce barged into his closet like a man on a mission. The boy tilted his head to see what was in there that had the most stoic person he knew acting so erratically. Suddenly, a pair of slacks flew out of the closet and past his head.

"Uh, Father?" A pair of shoes thumped against the dresser and bounced off of the mattress. "Do you need any help?"

Bruce stuck his head out of the door from where he was kneeling on the floor. _What the hell . . ._? The man's hair was mussed and there was a wild look to his eyes. Damian bit his lip fretfully.

"It's him or me, Damian! He will learn that **I** am the master of this house," Bruce snapped and dove back out of sight.

"I'll be right back. Call me if you need help," Damian squirmed out of the tight spot until he was back out in the hall.

Damian considered briefly rousing Grayson but his eldest brother had moved all the way to the other side of the house and Damian wasn't especially excited to interrupt anymore of their nighttime calisthenics, or whatever the couple wanted to call it, not even for this. Although, another loud bang against the wall made him want to reconsider.

 _Alfred_ , Damian thought suddenly. _Pennyworth would know what to do_! He ran down the stairs toward the old man's quarters.

* * *

"Good heavens, Damian," Alfred muttered as the boy dragged him towards the master suite. "Was there blood? I'm certain that if blood was not involved that this might have waited until morning."

He pushed his hair into some semblance of neatness. The youngest sir had not given him time to do more than find his slippers and grab his robe before he hustled the older man out of his room and up the stairs.

"I've never seen father like this before, Pennyworth," Damian told him for the fifth time. "I might have expected something like this if it were Joker or Scarecrow but we were only dealing with the riffraff last night."

A loud thump caught Alfred off guard. It did indeed appear to be coming from Master Bruce's room. He tied the sash of his robe snugly and followed the boy more quickly.

"Of course, there were likely an assortment of drugs during the rumble," Damian theorized, "but Father's suit should have prevented him from being inadvertently stabbed with one of those lowlife's hypodermic needle . . . Unless, that is, the cretin managed to wound him by stabbing in one of the seams but the likelihood of that event taking place during the battle last night are slim to none. But Father made no mention of such an injury . . ."

"I'm certain, Damian, that we will find a completely rational explanation once we have the opportunity to talk with your father. He is an extremely logical man . . ." A crash resounded, cutting him off. "Er, in most situations, at least."

Alfred tried to open the door only to have it bump against the dresser as it had for Damian earlier. The older man braced himself against the door frame and gave a mighty shove. The dresser inched over a little farther, enabling Alfred to slip into the room, Damian moving in right behind him.

"Oh, my! You did not exaggerate the amount of destruction to the room, did you?"

Alfred cleared the large piece of furniture but was forced to step through the bed frame in order to reach the closet door. He still fumbled trying to clear the mattress and box springs that lay between him and his goal. Damian took a different route by hopping over the drawers and their spilled contents before he dropped to his knees and crawled beneath mattress where it was propped up at an angle on one corner by the edge of the bed and dresser. The two made it to the open door of the closet at the same time.

Damian edged in first as he didn't want the butler blocking his view, and Alfred stepped in right behind him.

"My word, sir! Have you gone mad? What is it that you are trying to do in here?"

The closet looked as though a bomb had gone off. Clothes were off the racks and strewn throughout the small room. More than half of the shoes were scattered amidst the carnage. Only a few items were left still hanging. Drawers had been pulled out completely from the built-in dresser, leaving a gaping black hole beneath the furniture. Master Bruce, himself, was kneeling in the middle of it all, digging with one hand while the other held a black leather loafer upraised like a weapon.

"Sh!" Bruce looked up at him, quite frazzled. Dark circles lay beneath his eyes, attesting that he had been at this all bloody night. "Can you hear it?"

The two sane inhabitants froze and listened. Silence answered them.

"I'm afraid I hear nothing . . ."

"Quiet," Bruce growled, "and listen!" He raised the shoe in a threatening manner but his attention was not on them. Instead his eyes searched the room for some unseen intruder.

After several long, unnerving moments, they heard it as well.

Chirp . . .

Chirp . . .

Chirp . . .

"Alfred! It mocks me," Bruce wailed.

It took quite a bit of effort until Alfred could close his mouth but, then, he placed his palms on his hips.

"All of this in search of a cricket? Really, Master Bruce . . ."

Bruce dropped the shoe and ran his hands through his hair, making the ends stick out in every direction. "I can't sleep with that incessant noise! It won't stop!"

Unimpressed, Alfred raised an eyebrow. "And you chose to destroy your belongings rather than remove yourself to another bedchamber? You have seventy-eight from which to choose at last count. Surely, out of all of those, you might have discovered at least one that remained cricketless."

Bruce blinked at him and slowly sank back onto his heels. "I could have done that, yes," he admitted slowly but then his jaw firmed, "but then it would have _won_!"

Alfred looked around the room at the chore that lay before him come the morning and sighed. "Hm . . . Well, indeed, we couldn't have that now, could we?" He looked down at Damian's gaping expression and gave him a nudge. "Come along, lad. There are still more hours in which to sleep before we must get up."

Alfred gazed at the utter catastrophe of the bedroom and shook his head. He called back over his shoulder as he and young Damian made their way back through the clutter, "I will call in for you tomorrow and tell them you will be taking the day off."

"Good. After I catch this cricket, I'll want to sleep in," Master Bruce answered.

"Actually, you will be spending some time with me in here, straightening up this mess," Alfred told him in a no-nonsense tone.

"What was that?"

"You heard me, young man. You make the mess, you can clean it. I'll be back in four hours to assist," Alfred declared. "In the meantime, I strongly suggest you leave the cricket to its business and move into Jason's room for what is left of the night."

As the two exited into the hallway, Damian looked back over his shoulder, worriedly.

"So . . . Father's _not_ drugged?" he asked.

"I'm afraid not, young sir," Alfred sighed. "Merely sleep deprived. You should get yours before you begin acting in a similar manner."

He watched Damian scamper quickly into his room before heading back to his own bed. He would need the rest before the sun roused him to his duties. He would need to rethink the manor's cricket problem again. This could certainly not continue.

* * *

 **REACTIONS? Please . . .**

 **I thought long and hard about who would win this battle, Batman or the Cricket, but a couple of opinions swayed me to the cricket's side. Sleep deprivation can make you act in strange ways, trust me . . . And having had a cricket in the house before, I can tell you from experience that there is little that is more frustrating and antagonistic that those tiny varmints, particularly when you want to sleep. I figured "Why should Bruce be any different?"**


	19. A Butler's Wisdom

**If only we could have someone like Alfred to run all our hairbrained ideas past first . . . Alas, we must simply do our best and plod on!**

 **Warning: Language (I think) . . .**

* * *

There was something to be said about not having to get up and go to work each morning . . . At least when one had a supremely comfortable bedmate with which to cuddle with on cold, gray mornings. Dick stretched, noting a number of aches in his muscles brought on by patrolling for the first time in a few weeks. It could have been worse but Nightwing had managed to avoid any significant injuries this time out. Other than a new bruise here and there, he felt great. _One of the benefits of being bonded to a Siren_ , he thought, smiling as he nuzzled the back of Elle's neck. She sighed contentedly and leaned back into him, acknowledging him despite not being awake yet.

She had been dozing when he had climbed into bed early this morning. Not once did she open her eyes as he had made love to her but she had been more than receptive despite her lack of visual stimulus. She had hummed for him, making the sweet sounds whenever he pleased her . . . It was a little quirk she had that he was growing inordinately fond of the more she did it. Although Arthur had assured Dick, that as Elle's bondmate, he was immune to the influence of her voice, he knew he was still affected by it. Every sound and note Elle made vocally would produce in him an emotional or physical reaction.

She spoke and he would feel his body tighten or relax in response. Singing or humming would release tension he never realized that he felt. The noises she made, however, while making love could send him over the edge in a manner he had never experienced before her. Nothing he had ever felt could compare.

The bond was developing . . . expanding in new ways. He was more conscious now of his connection to her when they were separated. He could feel her presence at a greater distance than before, not the enormous distances that her father had alluded to, but easily within a mile. He noticed, during the last day or two, that he could locate her in the manor by simply focusing his thoughts on her. He could be down in the cave and, with a thought, know Elle was in the kitchen with Alfred or walking in the gardens or taking a shower.

He grinned against her skin, earning another hum of approval. She wasn't even awake and yet she knew he was happy. It made him want to laugh. Despite the problems they were experiencing, Dick had never felt so content and at ease . . . Happy.

God, when was the last time he had felt this way?

Dick had numerous occasions when he could have described himself as happy or content but now? He was suddenly aware of the tension that had plagued even his best memories. He frowned a moment as he focused on what he was feeling right at this moment in time and he couldn't find anything to detract from his joy. Sure, he knew someone was out the get them. There was always some concern in Gotham or Bludhaven, some trouble with work or tension in one of his numerous other relationships with friends, co-workers, and family but listening to Elle breathe erased all of it from his mind.

 _Incredible_. . .

Bruce was always so focused on the cons of the bond that he couldn't credit the benefits. Even if he could, Dick doubted the man would be able to understand them. So, he and Elle would die together . . . Honestly, Dick couldn't find a problem with that. He couldn't imagine how bleak life would be without Elle a part of it. He didn't want to find out. When she left this plane of existence, Dick felt comfortable with the knowledge that he would leave the world right alongside of her.

Part of him didn't like the idea that his activities could cut her life short one night but he knew without a doubt that she felt the same way as he did. Even if she could continue to exist after he passed, he knew for certain that she would want nothing more to do with this world if he weren't in it. Strangely enough, he found it comforting.

His hand traced a path up her hip, pushing up the flannel pajama top she wore. Elle wasn't as enamored with winter lately as she had been, he noticed. The novelty of the snow and the cold had worn out its welcome rather quickly. Testing his theory, Dick tugged the blankets down to her waist. Sure enough, after a few minutes, Elle tugged them right back up to her chin.

He chuckled and blew lightly over the shell of her ear, producing a shiver. She unconsciously rewarded his mischievousness by rolling into his arms and snuggling into his heat. His fingers traced the curve of her back causing an instant reaction as Elle dove beneath the covers completely with a whine.

"What's the matter, baby?" he murmured softly.

Elle gave a muffled harrumph, apparently unamused with his teasing.

"Aw, baby, don't be that way," he called down to her, only for her to scooch a little further from the light of day.

He laughed until she decided to exact a little revenge of her own. Dick gasped as Elle's wandering fingers delved past the drawstring top of his pajama bottoms. Seconds later he sighed as Elle strengthened their bond further. He wasn't relaxed now . . . _Whew_! But he thought he could luxuriate in this kind of tension all day.

Could he get a hurrah for spiritual bonding?

His eyes closed in ecstasy as Elle hummed lightly against his skin.

* * *

"We won't be at dinner," Miss Arabella told Alfred later.

"Indeed?" the family butler inquired.

"I'm taking Dick out to tonight," she confided in him.

Alfred stopped kneading his bread and looked over at her. She was rinsing the dishes from lunch and placing them in the dishwasher. He had quickly learned that Arabella wasn't as easily discouraged from assisting him in the kitchen as were the other members of the family. He also learned that she smudged the lines between employer and employee as to almost be nonexistent. He would be lying if he didn't admit to being pleased with the young woman's determination that Alfred was a part of the family. He wondered at her relationship with his counterpart in her own household and imagined it ran similar to what he was now experiencing.

"Have you discussed this with Master Dick?" he asked her, concerned. He knew that that dreadful villain, Deadshot, had made an attempt on her life already.

"Of course not," she smiled. "It's supposed to be a surprise."

"Perhaps, then, in that case, you should mention it to Master Bruce in the next hour or two so that he might make arrangements for your safety," he suggested.

Arabella frowned as she turned the water off and reached for a towel to dry her hands.

" _My_ safety?" she asked, carefully.

"Yours and Master Dick's," Alfred clarified. He was well aware of the young woman's dislike of any suggestion that they were protective of her alone.

She sighed. "Might I ask your opinion about something, Alfred?"

"Certainly, Miss," he assured her. "Is this a subject of confidentiality?"

She bit her lip nervously, sparking the older man's curiosity. "Well, not exactly. It's just that I haven't told anyone yet and, while I plan to do so today, I'm a little concerned about their reactions."

Alfred's eyebrow lifted at this. "What sort of reactions are you expecting? Is this bad news?"

Arabella was silent as she carefully folded the hand towel, obviously buying herself a bit more time to keep the information to herself. She set the towel aside and looked at him worriedly.

"It _isn't_ bad news . . ." she began.

"Then I cannot see how this should be cause for worry," he said.

Her shoulders slumped. "Dick's going to _kill_ me," she whined rather piteously.

"I daresay you are exaggerating the matter," he told her. "I'm certain that once you get the news out of the way, you'll see this is so."

She took a deep breath and blurted it out. "I bribed my brother, Aiden, to find the assassin after Dick and I, and work out a deal to buy him off. Aiden called me yesterday evening, after everyone left for patrol, and told me he had succeeded. Deadshot has dropped the contract and, as far as we can tell, no one else is after us. I now have to sign over half of my father's inheritance to my step-brother as payment for his help."

Arabella twisted her hands together, wincing in anticipation, as she waited impatiently for Alfred's reaction.

The butler blinked and then blinked again.

"Are you speaking of the same brother that was suing you over competency in an effort to steal your company away from you with hopes of having you committed to a mental facility for the rest of your life?"

She bit her lip, nodding. "It sounds really bad when you put it that way."

"The same brother that had once made an attempt on your life when you were but a small child?"

She winced again and nodded.

"The very same brother that Master Dick is convinced is the man ultimately behind the assassination attempts?"

Arabella slumped, sighing. "I only have one brother, Alfred."

"Oh, dear . . ."

"Oh, dear?" she asked worriedly. "I was kind of hoping for something a little more reassuring than that."

Alfred picked up his own towel and wiped the flour from his hands, then laid the towel over the now resting dough. "I wish I had something a little more reassuring to give you. I'm afraid I might be inclined to agree with your initial verdict as to Master Dick's reaction."

Her eyes widened slightly. "Really?"

"Indeed, my dear," he sighed next. "He might, in fact, consider killing you. At least, at first."

Arabella crossed her arms on the counter and rested her head there in despair.

"Whatever induced you to make such a foolhardy decision?"

"I was tired of always having to look over my shoulder," she complained. "I worried that someone would try to kill Dick next time. It was taking too long for them to fix it." Arabella straightened and leaned against the counter.

Although she still looked worried over Master Dick's reaction, Alfred couldn't say that she appeared to regret her actions.

"I believe the reason behind the delay was the need to discover the originator of the contract," Alfred explained. "It isn't enough to merely deter the assassin but to find the person who placed the contract out on the two of you in the first place. Whoever wants you both dead could simply hire someone else to replace the assassin you paid off. Eventually, the danger will return but, next time I'm afraid, we will not know from whence the threat will come."

"You mean, there was a chance they could have discovered the guy behind it all because they knew Deadshot made the last attempt."

"They had hopes of using the assassin, yes," Alfred told her.

"Until I screwed up everything," she muttered.

"Not everything, my dear," he comforted her. "They might still be able to track Deadshot down and obtain the information they need. At least, he will not be actively trying to kill you in the meantime. I believe that they were seriously considering your brother as the one they were looking for. Ironic that he would be the one to call the assassin off. Are you certain that he did what he claimed?"

Arabella shrugged and walked to the table to sit down. "I know that Dick has real mad on for Aiden but I honestly don't believe my brother is behind it, Alfred. To kill me, he would lose all hope of ever gaining control of our father's companies."

"If your brother is behind it, then it would appear that he was indeed successful. Did you not agree to sign over half of your inheritance to him in an effort to stop the assassination attempts?" Alfred pointed out.

She frowned as she considered this new proposal. "I-I suppose, when you consider it like that. I never thought of it from that angle before. It's kind of convoluted, though, isn't it? I mean, what if Deadshot had been successful? Aiden wouldn't have gotten anything. I never pictured him as being that much of a risk-taker. My brother likes to control everything and I cannot see him leaving so much to chance."

"Unless he paid Deadshot to miss," Alfred murmured softly.

Arabella stared at him, stunned. Then she seemed to shake herself out of her daze. "No," she said. "No, I cannot believe that. This Deadshot's entire reputation would have been on the line. He wouldn't have missed on purpose. It's one thing when he believes the contract has been revoked but to have it get around that he couldn't complete a contract . . ."

She was getting worked up when Alfred patted her hand comfortingly. "I'm sure you are quite right," he said.

She looked at the butler suspiciously. "Are you agreeing with me just to make me feel better?"

Alfred smiled slightly. "Did it work?"

She returned his smile with a smirk. "Maybe a little . . . But Dick is still going to have a conniption fit when he hears about this. He doesn't like it when I deal with Aiden by myself."

"I must say that I would take Master Dick's side on that issue."

"Well, I'm not a _total_ idiot," she said, defensively. "I had Hugh and Edward with me when I talked to him and last night we only talked on the phone."

"Of course, you are not, but I would be certain to make mention that your bodyguards were on hand when you confronted your brother when you finally speak with Master Dick, were I you," Alfred suggested. "The earlier in the conversation, the better, if I might suggest."

"I recognize good advice when I hear it, Alfred. Thank you," she said, standing up. "I guess it is time to beard the lion in his den."

"Perhaps it will not be so dire as all that," Alfred said, hopefully. "The young sir does love you, after all."

Arabella perked up at that. "That's true," she said, adding with a smile, "and he cannot kill me without killing himself in the process!"

"And there would be your silver lining . . ." Alfred chuckled lightly as she headed to the door leading to the manor proper. "Good luck bearding your lion, Miss."

* * *

"Look on the bright side," Elle said with false cheer, trying to distract Dick from his temper. "You can have fish tonight for dinner!"

Dick stared at her, incredulously. "Fish?" he yelled. "You think I care more about my stomach than I do you?"

"Of course not . . . I just . . . I was trying to find a bright side to all of this . . ." her voice faded away unhappily.

After talking with Alfred earlier, Elle felt her only hope lay in Dick's ability to forgive. It was no wonder he thought her incompetent. Her throat closed up and her eyes felt hot. All of her new-found self-confidence she had gained over the last few weeks, believing she had outsmarted her older brother, fled in a rush.

She turned away. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "No wonder Poppa thought I needed a keeper before he could leave me."

Dick slid his hands over her shoulders and squeezed gently.

"I'm sorry," he whispered in her ear. "I didn't mean to make you feel foolish."

"You didn't make me feel any such thing, Dick Grayson," she muttered. "I managed to do that all by myself."

"Sh," he hushed her criticism as he turned her in his arms. "You're _not_ foolish. I just worry about you."

Elle sank into his embrace gratefully. "I just wanted it to end. Hamilton Industries doesn't mean as much to me as does our freedom. I'm so tired of everyone having to go out of their way to protect me. I can't even go for a walk in the garden without someone having to set aside their own business to go with me."

"I know, baby," he told her. "All of this has to be frustrating for you." He leaned back just enough to look down at her. "Will it make you feel any better knowing that I'm not allowed out alone either. Bruce or Tim, even Damian, have been taking turns following me about whenever I leave the manor."

"Even last night?" she asked curiously.

Dick shrugged. "Not so much last night but that was only because I was in costume. The chances that the assassin knows that I am also Nightwing is pretty much zilch. But I was never alone for long stretches without checking in with Batman or Oracle."

At the mention of Oracle, Elle stiffened but Dick misinterpreted the sign. He kissed her temple and then her nose. "I was completely safe. Only your average bad guys were out last night."

His lips settled over hers and, after the slightest hesitation, Elle relaxed and returned his kiss. As usual, passion was never far from the surface and things heated up quickly between them. Dick swept her up, grateful that no matter what the argument, they always managed to forgive and work things out. His relationships hadn't always sailed so smoothly. In fact, it was seldom that they had managed to avoid the rocks. Although he had been able to salvage most of the friendships with his exes, Dick had never actually been lucky in love until Elle had swept into his life like a hurricane.

Later, Dick rolled onto his side and smiled down at her. His fingers smoothed her hair from her face.

"So, we're having fish tonight?" He asked, teasingly.

She pursed her lips but their lovemaking had eased the clouds from her eyes. "Correction: _you're_ having fish tonight," she told him, dryly. "I'm having cow."

"I'll take what I can get," he chuckled, dropping another kiss on her nose.

Elle glanced over at the clock. "We're not getting anything if we don't start getting ready right now. We'll miss our reservations."

"Can't have that," he agreed as he rolled away and came to his feet. "It's been too long since we've gone out, just the two of us."

Elle disappeared into the closet and reappeared a moment later with two outfits in her hands. One was an ombré, bandage dress with dark maroon stripes along the bottom that faded to white around the neck and shoulders; the other was a pair of dark jeans, a long-sleeved, russet t-shirt with a tan leather jacket and a matching print scarf.

"Which outfit do you like," she asked him.

Dick considered them both. While he preferred the easy, laid-back style of the jeans, he knew the dress would cling lovingly to Elle's generous curves. It was worth it to dress up a bit to enjoy the eye-candy.

"The dress," he decided.

Elle turned each outfit in her hands to look them over herself. She turned both back towards him and gave them a little shake. "So, which one is it?"

Dick smiled. "I told you. I like the dress."

Elle pursed her lips but didn't move. She tilted her head as she asked him again, "Come on, Dick. Choose!"

Annoyance dimmed his smile a hair. "I think you'd look fabulous in the dress," he told her firmly.

Elle stood there another moment. "We haven't got all night, you know."

Dick frowned. "Which one do you like?"

"I'm asking you," she told him.

"And I told you."

Elle sighed. "Waiting . . ."

Dick rolled his eyes, sighing. "Why don't we just be comfortable tonight," he said, finally. "Wear the blue jeans."

Elle beamed at him. "Oh, good! That's the outfit I like, too!" She turned and went back into the closet.

"Why do you bother asking me my opinion if you're just going to ignore it," he called after her.

"Because I love you," she called back at him.

He shook his head and laughed. That made absolutely no sense and, at the same time, perfect sense, a typical Elle answer. Apparently, even helping her choose an outfit was an adventure.

"Love you, too," he told her as he headed into the bathroom for a quick shower and to run a razor over his five o'clock shadow.

He whistled as he lathered up. He loved his seafood almost as much as he did his bondmate . . . Almost. Crabcakes had never made him laugh like Elle could, after all.

* * *

 **REACTIONS?**

 **I don't know. I think she did a pretty good job in spite of everything. At least she got Deadshot off their backs for a while but I'll admit to wishing I had an Alfred around to run things past before I commit to doing things. ;D Now, let the fun begin . . .**

 **Missed you all . . . But I'm settling into my new place and can now find some free time to sit down and write again. More coming very soon.**


	20. Earl pt 1

**For fun. ;D**

 **Warning: Some Language . . .**

* * *

Dick pulled into the parking area near the boardwalk. Despite the weather, there weren't a lot of spaces left open. Most of the cars here belonged to people here for the same reason: The Lakehouse Restaurant on Pier 36, one of Gotham City's premier seafood restaurants. The Lakehouse supposedly could give Alfred a run for his money, Dick had heard. He couldn't say for sure, being this was his first time here, but he supremely doubted it. He had to admit that he was curious to give it a try, though.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked Elle.

She hated seafood. She said she always had, even from a young age although her mother and grandmother hadn't shared her distaste. He had complained a few times because she had no give when it came to compromise on the subject. Dick had suggested they go to a surf and turf place where he could indulge his cravings while she stuck with her choice of land animals for dinner. She had always refused outright until tonight, her way of apologizing for going behind his back to her brother and stopping the assassin who had taken up a contract that was out on them.

Dick was still angry about it. Elle had messed up plans to use Deadshot to find the originator of the contract. The hired gun had apparently left the country the day before, after receiving a payoff from Aiden Hamilton to drop the deal; her dear brother supposedly pretending to be the person who had hired him to do it. Dick had his doubts still about her brother's acting credentials.

When Elle didn't answer him, Dick glanced over to find her staring out her window at the tops of the buildings around them. He touched her shoulder.

"Hey! Whatcha looking for? Bruce's sources confirmed that Deadshot left the U.S. yesterday," he asked her.

"Shadows," she murmured, still searching.

"You think someone else might have taken up the contract this soon? Word takes a little time to travel, even in the underworld."

She made a face at him. "No, not that. I'm looking for signs of bats."

He blinked in surprise. "Bats, eh?" He glanced up at the rooftops through the glass himself even as he scoffed. "We're supposed to be here by ourselves. At least, no one's admitted that they'd planned to follow us here."

She leaned back in her seat, giving him a _look_. "Would they _tell_ you?"

Dick snorted. "Maybe not. Does their protectiveness really bother you that much?"

Elle shrugged. "No. I'm just a little suspicious where your family's concerned and I wondered if I might be able to spot one of them."

Dick laughed. "Only if they wanted you to," he told her. He got out of the car and, walking around to her side, swept the area once more . . . just to be sure. "Nope. No one here but us."

Elle stepped out and huddled in her jacket. Here by the lake, the wind was stronger and the temperature dropped by a degree or two. Dick threw an arm around her shoulders as they moved quickly to the sidewalk that led to the boardwalk and the restaurant beyond. The moist air smelled a bit like fish but not in a bad way.

Dick hesitated before opening the door. "We can still go somewhere else if you want."

She huffed in pretend annoyance. "I'm trying not to be that selfish," she muttered, opening the door herself and leading the way in.

Dick nearly ran into her back when she stopped suddenly. To their right were a long row of aquariums filled with crab and lobster. It made Dick's mouth water, but he could feel Elle stiffen in response.

"Good evening," the host greeted them. "Name?"

As Elle wandered to the tanks slowly, Dick answered for them. "Um, my fiancée made the reservations so . . . Try Hamilton first. If not that, then Grayson."

She might have used his name with the hyphened Wayne tacked on as well. Technically, that was his name now, though he didn't often use it. Bruce understood that Dick didn't like trading on his adopted father's wealth and fame or dealing with the media frenzy that came with it.

"Ah, here we go," the host, a short, rotund man with this graying hair, nodded. "It is under Grayson, sir." He noted Elle's preoccupation. "Are you in the mood for something in the tanks? Our lobster is fresh. The shipment came in this afternoon from Maine, brought into the wharf with the morning breeze."

He licked his lips. "Sounds like a plan," Dick agreed.

"Take your pick and they will take it back to the chef straightaway. I can seat you both when you're finished," the host told him.

It surprised him that Elle would linger here but it surprised him more when he stopped by her shoulder to hear her murmuring to the large lobster currently attempting to escape the tank on the backs of his 'brothers'. Dick met the eyes of the attendant behind the aquarium. The question in the man's eyes was as to whether or not Elle might be prone to violent episodes.

Dick smiled and shrugged his shoulder lightheartedly. He leaned in and admired the choices. "I thought you preferred cow," he said, bumping her shoulder gently.

She looked startled. "Oh, um, I do." She straightened. "I'm sorry. Am I holding us up? Is he waiting to seat us?"

"He will as soon as I choose my entrée," Dick said.

He tapped the glass, pointing at the large lobster Elle had been admiring. He might as well stuff himself while he was here. He was not under any illusions that this would be happening again short of their fiftieth wedding anniversary.

"Very good choice, sir," the attendant said. He reached in to pluck the lobster from the water.

Dick was turning when he froze abruptly. Elle's eyes were huge and her chin had begun trembling.

"What did I do to cause that?" he asked, indicating her upset.

Tears welled as she bit her lip and turned away.

"Elle? Baby? What's wrong?" Dick tried to turn her around to face him but she waved a hand in the air for him to give her a moment.

When she did turn, Dick's hope for a pleasant evening out turned to ash. Tears streaked her face as she struggled to control her reaction and failed miserably.

"I-I can't do this," she choked. "I tried. I thought I could but . . . I'm sorry! I'll wait outside for you."

Dick blinked and caught her right before she reached the door. "Elle, wait! That's crazy! You can't expect me to eat dinner in here while you sit outside and cry your eyes out." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration and a bit of anger. "Why did you make reservations if this was how you're going to act?"

Her 'act', however, dissolved into a full-fledged breakdown. She wasn't throwing a tantrum in order to embarrass him, apparently, but genuinely upset . . . but _by what_? He glanced behind him at the lobsters still angling to escape their fate and it suddenly hit him. He even remembered her stating some time ago that she thought crabs were cute and made a threat once concerning the fate of lobsters. He had _thought_ she had been joking! Anyone else would have been joking . . .

"I'll . . . wait outside," she wailed and ran back out the door, leaving Dick gaping.

Their host looked startled. "Will you be having dinner for one, then, or should I cancel your table?"

Dick turned back to the row of aquariums. "I can't believe I'm doing this," he shook his head and trotted over. "Wait! Can you stop him? I've changed my mind."

The second attendant manning the area had been watching the scene with some shock. He nodded and ran back into the kitchen. The lobster was too large to be wasted if the customer was planning to leave.

In a few minutes, the original attendant returned, lobster still in hand. He had a bit of a smirk on his face. "I didn't think you'd go through with it, mate," he said lightly. "Not when your lady was making faces at this big guy like he was a Christmas puppy, bow and all."

 _Gah_! Dick felt like an idiot! This guy had seen Elle for a total of five minutes and knew she would never forgive him if he ate her . . . her . . . What had he called it? _Her Christmas 'puppy'_? But Dick hadn't been listening to his heart at that moment. His stomach had been making too much noise to hear anything else.

He slapped his forehead. This marriage was obviously never going to bore him . . . It might starve him, he thought wryly, but never bore him.

"Don't feel too bad," the other man grinned at him. "You weren't being heartless. You were just being a guy. We don't think the same way as women do." He glanced at the door. "Course, I'm thinking your lady-friend doesn't think like other women do either," he added with a short laugh.

Dick sighed. "She's not like anyone I've ever met before."

"Do I sympathize for you or do I congratulate you?" he asked, cheerfully.

It was Dick's turn to laugh a little. "Congratulate me. Definitely congratulate me."

"She'll keep you on your toes," the fellow said. "Congratulations . . . Well, if she doesn't dump you over this, anyway."

Dick smirked as he watched his dinner crawling around the aquarium in search for another way out. He wasn't worried that Elle would dump him over this. In fact, he thought she might even reward him for what he was about to do.

"I don't suppose you have a bucket back there you can loan me, do you?" Dick asked. "I think I still want our friend here but I'll be taking him to go."

It had cost him a pretty penny when one considered that Dick left the restaurant still hungry. The chef had insisted Dick pay for the bucket as well as the lobster after some argument. Dick was paying for the entire meal, why should _he_ care if Dick chose to take his lobster home with him, uncooked or otherwise?

* * *

He didn't have to search; Elle could be seen halfway between the restaurant and the boardwalk, sitting on the pier with her feet dangling yards above the swirling tide below them. Her arms were crossed over the lower board that made up the railing and her chin was resting on them. Dick made his way over, the saltwater in the bucket sloshed a little, dampening his leg. He had to keep checking on his new friend to make sure he wasn't in the process of escaping the bucket, although why, he wasn't sure. Wasn't escaping the whole point?

He set the bucket down on the pier beside her and plopped himself down on the other side of it.

"Did I ruin everything?" he asked.

She snorted lightly, not looking away from the horizon. The sun had already set behind the skyscrapers but the sky hadn't darkened much beyond the twilight stage. The white foam seemed to glow as it hovered atop the churning waves of the Great Lake.

"Did I?" she came back. "I wanted to give you something but turns out, I'm too selfish for even that."

He couldn't see if she was crying in the dying light but he could feel it.

"I love seafood, I'll admit it," he murmured, "but you cannot seriously believe that I don't love you more? I appreciate what you were trying to do here but, baby, I love you whoever that is. And I can't fault you your tender heart."

Dick reached over and ran a hand through the loose strands of her hair. "If loving you means that I'll never eat seafood again, I'll just not eat seafood again."

Elle raised her head and shook it. "That's ridiculous," she exclaimed, "and so not fair to you."

He smiled. Pleased because, let's face it, Dick really did love seafood. "Then, how about we agree that once a month I eat dinner without you? Would that be okay?"

"Just once a month?" She glanced over at him and noticed the bucket for the first time. "Oh," she frowned. "What's this?"

"I promise to eat a month's worth in that meal," Dick vowed. He laid a hand on top of the bucket. "This is a gift to make up for wanting to eat your Christmas puppy."

She blinked, confused. "Christmas puppy? What?"

A claw rose up out of the water, hitting his hand. Dick removed it and a moment later, the lobster Elle had been chatting up inside the restaurant peeked out over the brim. Elle gasped is surprise once and then in delight a second time.

"Earl," she exclaimed. "You brought me Earl?"

It was Dick's turn to blink in confusion. "Earl? What? Who's Earl?"

But Elle was dipping her hands into the bucket and lifting the fat, juicy lobster that should have been dripping with butter rather than briny water out and held him up.

 _Well, I'll be damned_ , Dick watched in amazement. _The guy was right_! _She does look at him like he's a damned puppy instead of a potential entrée_.

Elle was cooing at the lobster. She looked over at Dick, joyfully. "You saved him? How?"

He shrugged, bemused. "I paid for our dinner. I decided for take-out instead and preferred to leave my lobster uncooked. I figured you would rather let him go free than for me to leave him for the next customer's plate."

She tucked him back into the saltwater. "You want to fly to the coast of Maine tonight?" she asked him. "That's what it would take to free him. Lobsters can't live in freshwater."

Dick frowned. He hadn't thought of that. "Oh. Oh, then what do we do with him? I kind of made a big fuss in the restaurant over this. We can't take him back."

Elle shook her head vehemently. "Oh no. We are not taking him back!" She trailed one delicately webbed finger in the water of the bucket thoughtfully. "I guess . . . we'll have to take him home with us."

Dick raised an eyebrow. He hadn't thought beyond taking the lobster out of the restaurant. A little panic bubbled up at the idea of spilling saltwater on the carpet of the Jaguar they had taken here and what Bruce might say to his $90,000, tricked-out Jag in British racing green smelling like fish the next time he chose to drive it into work.

"Uh . . . for how long?"

Elle grinned. "Forever?"

"For- . . . Are you kidding?" He kind of hoped she was kidding. "Mook's terrarium wouldn't hold a lobster, too."

She giggled. The sound lifted the edges of his mouth into a smile despite his worries. "This just became your Valentine's Day present to me," she told him with a wink. "Doesn't Bruce have an aquarium somewhere in the manor?" she asked him.

 _Valentine's Day_? _When was that_? _Oh, crap . . . That's tomorrow_! He'd forgotten.

"Uh, well, yes," Dick remembered staring into it for hours over the course of his childhood, the rainbow colors of the many tropical fish delighting his young eyes and doing wonders towards easing his troubled spirit. "But it's currently occupied with fish."

"Hm, and their needs are probably incompatible with those of a lobster from the North Atlantic . . ." Elle sighed. "I guess I'll have to spring for an aquarium, then, in the morning."

"No. If it's my Valentine's Day gift to you, I'll pay for it," Dick said magnanimously. "But how soon can they deliver?"

"They wouldn't without some greenbacks to sweeten the deal," Elle told him. "No, really, Dick. What Earl would need is too expensive."

"How expensive is expensive?" he asked hesitantly.

"Several thousand to start. That's just the basics. It would be cruel to place him in a too small tank," she told him, her eyes glazing over as she planned what glorious home the lobster would be given.

Dick looked down at the bucket and sighed. "I have the money."

"There's no need to go to Bruce for a loan. I have all the money we need."

"I said I would pay for it and I will," Dick told her, finality adding a crisp snap to his voice. "I have the money. I have enough money to give Earl a damned palace if that's what you want."

And he wouldn't have to go through Bruce to get to it . . . just Lucius. The man had overseen his trust fund since the insurance company sent the check a couple of months after Dick's parents had died. The amount had barely been enough to cover the funeral expenses, however. His folks had had no idea how little the amount would stretch and that, after costs and fees had been taken out, their son would have been left practically penniless and at the mercy of the system. But Bruce had stepped in and paid for the funerals, then handed the check over to his most trusted man: Lucius Fox.

Lucius had a Midas touch when it came to investments. He had taken Dick's tiny nest egg and grown it into a fortune. Nothing on the scale of Elle's money but Dick wasn't as broke as people assumed. He just chose to save it for a rainy day. He'd had a few wet days over the last few years but nothing that had enticed him into dipping into his funds. Buying Earl a decent aquarium for Elle for Valentine's Day wouldn't break him.

Elle blinked at him. "Uh, okay, but he doesn't need a palace . . . Earl's more of a nice three bedroom/two bath with a double car garage kind of lobster."

Dick huffed. "Fine. Decide whatever he needs and let me know, and _**I**_ will get it for him."

He climbed back to his feet and held out a hand to help her to hers. She immediately got up on her toes and kissed him on his chin. Sighing, Dick dipped his head and gave her a real kiss, stopping only when Elle shivered. With the setting of the sun, the temperature nosedived and it was worse here at the shore. He adjusted her scarf more snugly around her neck, tucking the loose ends into her jacket.

"Let's get you home," he murmured, giving her one more peck on her nose. Settling his hands on his hips, he looked down at the bucket doubtfully. "Is there something more we can do for this guy until the morning? I don't think he'll be very happy inside that bucket all night."

"I'm certain he considers it far more comfortable than a boiling pot of water," Elle snarked, winking to assure him he had been forgiven. "And a heck of a lot more comfortable than the inside of you."

Dick rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and chuckled. "Yeah, that was a bit too close, wasn't it?" He checked his watch. All the pet stores were closed by now.

Smiling, her world back on track, Elle considered the matter. "There's a 24-hour Carlmart over in Silverside Shopping Plaza. It's not too far out of our way."

"I didn't think Carlmart had aquariums," Dick remarked, picking up the bucket and turning in the direction of the parking lot.

"They do, but not the size Earl would need," Elle admitted. "But we're going to improvise."

They were silent as they walked back, the only sound were the waves breaking on the lake's dock and the infrequent bumping of the lobster around in the bucket. Dick's leg was freezing where the sloshing water would occasionally splash on him.

As they crossed the street to reach the parking lot, Dick asked, "So, you can talk to marine life?"

Elle glanced at him briefly. "No. Whatever gave you that idea?"

"But . . . Weren't you talking to Earl in the restaurant?" he asked, confused once again. The feeling was becoming increasingly familiar to him since meeting Elle.

"Well, yes, but people talk to animals all the time," she laughed. "Nobody believes the animals can actually understand them."

"Oh . . . really?" He relaxed a bit at that.

"I think what they react to is more in the tone of your voice . . ." Elle continued thoughtfully.

And . . . he was confused again, imagining the lobster noticing Elle's voice to begin with but hell, what did he know? She _was_ descended from a Siren, after all.

He started the car by remote while they were several yards away, hoping to rush the process of heating the car up. The Jag had heated seats though, so it wouldn't take long before they were toasty warm again. He opened the door for her when they reached the vehicle.

"What made you call him Earl?" he asked as Elle slid into the buttery leather seat.

She smiled up at him sweetly after settling the bucket between her feet. "Why _wouldn't_ I call him Earl? It's his name."

Dick closed the door and went to get into the driver's side. " _'Why wouldn't I call him Earl?'_ " he repeated to himself in a falsetto voice as he made his way around the car. "Why do I even bother asking?"

* * *

 **REACTIONS?**

 **Hah! Dick and Elle get a new pet! Can't wait to see the family's reaction to this one . . . With these two, you had to know that they wouldn't go for the normal, average, conventional pet. After all, where would the fun be in that? ;D I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I have. Let me know, please!**


	21. Earl Explores the Manor - Earl pt 2

**You guys are so patient! Hope you enjoy this . . . (6-17-17: I forgot that Mook was left running free in the bedroom. Had to go back and fix that. ;D)**

 **Warning: Language . . .**

* * *

Dick pushed the door open with his shoulder, stumbling into the foyer with a large plastic kiddie pool that was as tall in diameter as Elle. It made a racket but they didn't worry about why no one came to investigate. It was nine o'clock; Bruce and Damian would have already gone out on patrol and Alfred was probably manning the Batcomputer. He was glad. He had no desire to explain why he was dragging a cheap plastic pool into the house in February. He was, however, glad to have found it. It was far better than trying to keep Earl the Lobster in an ice chest.

"Sh! You're making too much noise," Elle complained as she followed him in, bucket of Earl in her arms. "I don't want to have to explain this."

Dick laughed. "My thoughts exactly."

"Don't forget the chest," she reminded him. "It's still sitting out on the step."

"Ah, yes. I'll come back for it," Dick told her as he lifted the pool above his head and trotted up the staircase.

The nice thing about mansions were that most of them had staircases large enough for five people to climb them side-by-side with room to spare. Wayne Manor was no exception. They had ended up buying an ice chest as well but it was being used to keep lobster food in. Krill and silversides, mostly . . . Carlmart really _did_ have everything, apparently!

Elle followed Dick into their bedroom. The room was huge, like most of the rooms in the manor. Dick could probably do his gymnastics across the floor between the bed and the sitting area. He put the plastic pool down in the middle of the space and stepped back as Elle paused by Mook's terrarium.

"Look, Mookie!" she called to the tarantula happily. "We brought you a brother!"

Dick couldn't help it. He started laughing. "And they look so much alike," he snarked.

Elle sent him a look over her shoulder. "As much as you and your brothers do."

Dick choked. "Hey! At least we all have black hair."

"Sh! You're going to give Earl a complex," she scolded lightly but her frown quickly disintegrated as she carried the lobster to his temporary home. "Don't worry, Earl," she crooned to the wary crustacean, "this is only for a little while. Your new mama and papa will be getting you a brand-new tank tomorrow. It will be so nice that you won't mind being here instead of the ocean . . . Well, not too much anyway, I hope."

Dick hesitated. "Are you sure Earl can't understand you?" he asked her suspiciously.

Elle didn't bother dignifying such a ridiculous concept with an answer. "Go get Earl's food," she told him as she set the lobster into the center of the pink pool. "He's hungry."

Dick snorted. "So am I," he muttered as he left to grab the ice chest still out front.

He needed to move the car back into the garage as well. Elle was too busy pouring the briny water into the pool to hear him. He was a little disappointed that he didn't get his seafood dinner but considering he had completely forgot Valentine's Day, he felt like he got off easy. He knew from experience that forgetting that particular day could wreak havoc on a relationship.

Dick hated when Elle got angry with him . . . She could go days without speaking to him. The bond made any difficulties they might have uncomfortable enough but Elle's voice was pure magic for him and he couldn't think of anything else she could do that would make him regret their disagreements more. Thankfully, she seldom got upset with him.

When he returned with the chest a few minutes later, Elle was sitting on the ottoman next to the neon-pink eyesore, chatting it up with their new . . . pet. He wondered if there were any way to keep this a secret from the rest of the family. Dick blew out his breath in frustration. Damian visited Elle up here every day and no one could keep a secret from Alfred for any length of time.

He supposed he could bear up under the ribbing he would be taking from this. His lips turned up at the sight before him. The bond assured him that Elle was ecstatic right now. That was worth any amount of teasing he was bound to endure from his brothers. Hell, the fact that he and his brothers had spent more time in each other's company without bleeding since Elle had come into his life than the past seven years combined made Dick pretty darned ecstatic as well.

How long had he dreamed of exactly this very thing? The entire family getting along, being able to work together, . . . _not bleeding_! Yeah, that last part was important. Gotham City drained enough of their life's blood as it was without the Robins, past and present, aiding the process along at every opportunity. As he stepped closer and leaned down to embrace the love of his life, he came face to face with Mook. The gargantuan arachnid was cozy on its mistress' shoulder. Dick jumped back, in spite of himself.

Elle looked at him, smiling. "They're bonding. I think they like each other."

Dick ran a shaky hand through his hair and laughed at himself. "Is that so. How can you tell?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked.

He snorted. "No. No, I'm sorry. Not to me," he chuckled as he drew up his own chair and sat down beside her.

Earl was attempting to crawl out of his pool. Elle had removed the bands that had been on his claws and he opened and closed them, like he would his hands after being untied – an event that happened on occasion, even now. He shook his head . . . He was now empathizing with a damned lobster. His life . . . It had become a comic strip during the last few months but he could honestly say he wouldn't have it any other way. He leaned forward and frowned at the pool.

"That's not a lot of water in there. You sure that Earl will be alright?" he asked worriedly.

This was his Valentine's Day present to Elle. He didn't want the lobster to die before the day actually arrived. That would be a dinner gone to waste . . . He sent a prayer of thanks upward that the bond didn't come with straight up telepathy. His fiancée might not kill him for that thought but it would be a close-run thing.

Elle agreed. "It's not a lot but lobsters can live up to three days out of water as long as their gills are kept moist. This should be enough until we can get him situated into his new home."

Dick stared down at the lobster in the kiddie pool. "Bruce is going to have a cow."

Elle snorted and snickered. "Maybe no one will notice?"

Dick looked over at her with disbelief. "The best we can hope for is that no one steals him for dinner."

"No!" Elle gasped. "They wouldn't."

Smiling, Dick put an arm around her. "No. They wouldn't but it would be a close-run thing. The only person in the house that doesn't like seafood besides you is Bruce." He looked down at her curiously. "Did your mom or grandmother have the same aversion to seafood?"

Elle sighed and leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand.

"No." The tone in her voice said this was a subject that had been thoroughly exhausted at some point.

When no other information was offered, Dick prodded her gently. "Your father or grandfather?"

"Papa loved seafood and Nono grew up on the coast of Italy. Seafood was a staple there," she told him unhappily.

"So, it's just you?"

Elle sat up at looked at him, her upset obviously. "I just can't do it! I've _never_ been able to do it. Dick, I swim with them. I played with them during dives. It's like asking me to eat a puppy! I. Just. _Can't_!"

Dick cringed inwardly that her choice of words echoed those of the cook's assistant at the restaurant. "I'm surprised that you offered to take me to eat at a seafood restaurant, then."

"You made it a point to tell me how selfish I am," she grumbled, absent-mindedly holding a finger out in front of Earl. The lobster lifted a claw to her but didn't pinch her. Elle rubbed her finger along the edge of the claw gently and smiled at him. It was the damndest thing Dick had ever seen.

He swallowed, remembering how he had griped about the subject to her not so long ago. At the time, he supposed he meant it but then, he never realized how far her aversion went.

"I thought I could handle it. I didn't know Earl or any of the other shellfish on display. I never swam with the fish they were serving. I had hoped I could tough it out for the time it would take you to eat and we could get out of there," she mumbled. "I didn't want to be selfish and it seemed like such a simple thing at the time. I shouldn't have looked at them. I should have just gone straight to the table and closed my eyes."

To his surprise, a tear hovered a second on her lashes before dropping to splash onto the leg of her jeans. The material soaked it up instantly. Was she thinking about the other lobsters she had left behind? Dick found himself wondering how he would react going into a restaurant that served elephants and actually seeing the beasts before the slaughter.

Remembering his love of Eleanor, Haley's circus elephant that he had helped care for while a child, he thought he might have acted similarly if placed in the same situation . . .

"You can laugh at me," Elle grumbled. "I'm used to it. Aiden always liked poking fun at me for it. He still makes a habit of ordering seafood whenever we have to dine together at some stupid function we're forced to attend."

Startled to find Elle lumping him in with Aiden for any reason hurt. "I'm not going to make fun of you."

"You wouldn't believe how many times I went to bed without supper because Nona or Mama made seafood that night. Nono and Papa both agreed that it was ridiculous to make a separate meal just for me and sent me to my room because I was too selfish to eat what Mama and Nona had prepared for me," she told him. "It wasn't until I began to cook for myself that it stopped."

Dick winced at the word _selfish_.

"I'm a little surprised, being so soft-hearted, you aren't a vegetarian," he marveled.

She leaned up and gave him a soggy smile. "Maybe if I had had to do chores on a neighbor's farm, I would have. If I had named a chicken and then been forced to have him for dinner . . ." she shuddered dramatically.

"Your grandparents don't have a farm?"

"No. They own a vineyard. Nono makes wine. The business has run in the family for generations," she informed him. "Did I not tell you that?"

Dick shrugged. "If you did, it must have slipped my mind."

"Well, you'll be happy to know that I do not name grapes," she laughed. Elle stood up and, straddling his legs, planted herself in his lap.

"You'll be happy to know, I won't ask you to eat at anymore seafood restaurant with me," he declared. "I'll find an opportunity to go without you sometime when the craving gets bad," he said, winking at her.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do better," she said regretfully. "But you've made me extremely happy with Earl."

"I didn't know this dislike ran so deep," he told her.

"We still have a lot to learn about each other," she sighed. "I hope you won't find other things you don't like about me."

He kissed her. "As regretful as your dislike of seafood is, it doesn't make me like you less. After all, I don't share your love of marshmallows."

Elle blinked. "You don't like marshmallows? But Christmas . . .?"

"I didn't say I didn't like them," he clarified. "I said, I don't love them like you do."

She thought that over a moment and then smiled. "So, basically, what you're saying is, more for me!"

Dick laughed. "Yeah, I guess that's right."

"I can live with that," she grinned. Elle wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned down to reward him. Long minutes later, she tucked her head into the crook of his neck and murmured. "You are the best man I have ever met, Dick Grayson, and I am the luckiest woman in the world."

His heart warmed at her words, the bond ensuring that he understood that Elle had meant every single one of them. Dick scooped her up and carried her over to the bed.

"That deserves a reward," he told her.

Elle squirmed a little. "Afterwards. I don't know about you but I am starving!"

Dick blinked at the reminder. They hadn't eaten yet. He'd actually forgotten!

"What are you in the mood for?" He glanced at the clock. "It's too late now for most restaurants to still be open but I'm sure Alfred wouldn't mind throwing together something for us."

Elle pouted. "Why would we bother Alfred when I'm right here. I cook, remember?"

"Yes, you do," he smiled.

He had missed her cooking. Other than making the occasional sandwich, Elle had only cooked once since they'd come back to the manor. Alfred's kitchen was his kingdom, however, and while he might consent to Elle assisting every so often, in that room, he ruled.

"I'll help clean up," he promised, setting her back onto her feet. He scooped up Mook from where he was crawling in the direction of the bed. "Oh no, you don't," Dick spoke to the tarantula, much like Elle did at times. He hadn't realized that behavior could be contagious. He placed Mook back into his terrarium. "There you go, buddy. You'll be safer in there."

Elle looked around the room. "How long are we going to stay here again?"

Dick shrugged. "Unsure. I think Bruce was hoping to find the person responsible for the contract before we moved out."

She sighed heavily. "And I screwed that up."

"Temporarily," he assured her. "But we'll be here for longer than previously planned because of this setback. Does that bother you so much?"

"Only that I don't have a kitchen of my own. I worked so hard to become independent and get out on my own . . . I didn't expect to be trading _my_ father's home for _your_ father's home." Frowning, Elle walked into the hallway that made up their wing and considered the space. "But perhaps we can do something to make our time here more palatable."

Dick followed her out and leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb.

"What are you thinking?" he asked suspiciously. Her mind was running several hundred miles an hour. He could see it from here.

"I'm thinking about a kitchen," she murmured.

He looked at the rooms that lined the hall that they hadn't touched yet. "You want to put a kitchen up here?"

She swung around and grinned at him. "I want to put in an apartment."

The corner of his mouth lifted. "An apartment?"

"I'll pay for it!" she exclaimed, growing excited. "Do you think Bruce would go for it? Would he let us remodel the wing and make it independent from the rest of the manor?"

Dick tilted his head as he thought about it. "I don't know. This place has been in his family for hundreds of years."

When a fire had struck the manor a few years ago, Bruce had driven the architect and the contractors nuts, wanting the details around the reconstruction of the wings affected to be identical to the original. There had been numerous hoops to jump through, and Dick suspected numerous hands greased (although he would never suggest it openly), to get the proper permits that allowed it as laws had changed over the centuries. Much of the manor's features had been grandfathered in. It had been a headache, but being a billionaire meant exceptions could be made. It was the only time Dick ever suspected Bruce of using his fortune to bend the rules. He'd never had the courage to ask the man about it, however.

She smirked at him. "I'm not suggesting he deed the wing to us. It would still be Wayne Manor but this would be a place of our own while we're here. We could stay in it anytime we came back to visit."

Dick crossed his arms. He had to admit, he kind of liked the idea. He, like Elle, had wanted his independence. It was the main reason he had moved out years ago, more so even than the arguments he and Bruce had been having. The manor was enormous. Dick could have continued to live off the man's largesse forever and never need see him if he didn't want to but Dick had craved being on his own and not beholden to anyone.

They were looking at a stay here of several months potentially. Elle's safety was worth the sacrifice of his independence but, as she pointed out, the illusion of their own space within the manor would make the stay easier. But would Bruce go for it? Or would the suggestion hurt his or Alfred's feelings? Despite what Dick had said numerous times in the heat of their arguments, he knew the man had feelings . . . and that they could be hurt. The two of them were getting along better than they had in years now and, although Dick didn't want to screw that up, he understood what Elle was asking and agreed with her.

As if she knew what he was thinking, Elle moved back to him and placed her hands on his chest. "I'll do the asking, okay? And if he says no, I won't say another word about it again."

It was amazing the relief he felt from such a little thing. A little humiliating as well but, thankfully, Elle didn't see his reluctance to ask as cowardice. She saw it as him wanting to preserve their relationship and, for that, he was grateful.

"Okay," he murmured as he kissed her. "But stop planning it in your head until after you see what he has to say."

She grinned. "Am I that obvious?"

"I'm just glad you don't know where the tools are stored," he quipped. "I could see you, sledgehammer in hand, demolishing the walls all on your own in order to get a head start."

"Don't be ridiculous," she told him but laughed with him.

He wasn't too off the mark, he had a feeling. They started walking to the kitchen together when his stomach rumbled. She took his hand, swinging their arms playfully as they traversed the stairs. It didn't take much to get his mind off Bruce and onto food. He might not be eating lobster, but Elle never failed to disappoint in the kitchen.

* * *

"Oh my God, what is that smell?"

The door to the kitchen eased open and Tim stuck his head through. His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I thought you two were going out to dinner tonight?"

Dick was putting the freshly-made tortellini in a pot of boiling water as Elle stirred fried shallots in olive oil. She smiled in greeting as she added fresh spinach to the pan and added the heavy cream to the mixture.

"Change in plans," Dick told him. "You're back early," he added, noting the time was just half past midnight.

"Slow night," Tim said, setting his motorcycle helmet on the kitchen table. He tossed his gloves on top and walked over to look at what they were cooking. "What is that?" he asked with way too much interest.

Elle answered. "Chicken-Mozzarella tortellini with a spinach and cream sauce."

Tim eyes wandered over the flour covered counter. "Did you make the pasta from scratch?"

"Of course," Elle frowned at him. "That is the only way to make it."

"J-Just that it smells delicious," Tim finished lamely.

"There's more than enough here if you want to join us," Elle offered.

She sent an apologetic smile to Dick. He shrugged. It was the risk they'd take every time they wanted to use the kitchen, he realized. Suck a large house and yet there was no guarantee of privacy in the common areas. Yet another reason to talk to Bruce about turning their wing into a self-contained apartment. Perhaps, if they made it a condition for their stay?

The door opened behind Tim and Bruce walked in holding a lobster in hand, its claws opened and snapped in distress. Damian and Alfred followed.

"If you two are going to cook, you might make certain that your ingredients don't escape into the house proper," he told them.

Elle squeaked in surprise and ran towards the squirming shellfish. "Oh no! Earl escaped!" she exclaimed, gently taking the lobster from Bruce and cuddling it in her arms.

"Careful, miss," Alfred warned her. "It will pinch you if you hold it incorrectly."

When Alfred offered to take it for her, Elle turned a shoulder to block him. "No. He wouldn't do that. Dick, turn the fire down under the sauce and watch the tortellini. It will need to come out in another few minutes. I'll be right back," she said, leaving the startled butler in her wake.

"Where is she going? Isn't the water for the lobster?" Damian asked.

"The water is for the pasta," Dick clarified.

"I was under the impression that you two were going out for dinner," Bruce said as the door closed behind Elle. He looked to Dick for an explanation. "Did you run into trouble?"

Dick snorted in amusement. "Only if trouble just ran from the room with a live lobster in her arms."

"Explain."

Damian glanced back at the door confused. "I thought Elle didn't like seafood?"

"Indeed," Alfred nodded. He moved over to the stove to resume watching Elle's sauce for her. "What Master Damian said is true."

"Correction," Dick told them as he checked on the pasta. "Elle doesn't like to _eat_ seafood," he said, emphasizing the difference. "She _will_ , however, make a scene that requires me to rescue said seafood from the restaurant and bring it home as a pet."

"Wait! What?" Tim blinked. "Are you joking?" He looked behind him in the direction that Elle disappeared. "Tell me you're joking."

Bruce wandered over to look into the pot as Dick gathered a bowl and prepared to remove the stuffed pasta from the water. Dick sighed.

"It is one of those things one has to adjust to when one falls in love with a Atlantian, apparently," he announced. The whole thing was kind of funny now that he thought about it. He shrugged. "Or maybe it's just the Sirens that get emotionally-attached to shellfish."

"It sounds like you two had an interesting evening," Alfred commented as he turned the fire off beneath the skillet.

He couldn't help it. Dick started chuckling as he started moving the pasta from the water to the bowl Bruce held for him.

"While I was speaking to the maître-d, Elle wandered over to the tanks where they kept the fresh lobsters and crabs before cooking. I supposed I should have noticed that she was bonding with one of them before I chose to have it for dinner but, in my defense, I was hungry." Dick told them.

Bruce and Tim both made faces of comprehension but Tim followed it up with laughter. They knew immediately the turn his evening was about to take. Damian simply looked impatient although Alfred looked as if he were having trouble stifling a smile.

"Imagine my surprise when she burst into tears and ran out of the restaurant," Dick shook his head. "The assistant behind the tanks had to clue me in. I ended up rescuing the lobster and presenting it to her outside."

Damian frowned. "Are you attempting to pull our leg, Grayson?"

Tim gawked. "She _cried_ . . . over the fate of a lobster?"

Bruce hummed. "I'd have cried at being forced to eat it."

"Yeah, well, I thought she'd dump it into the lake and we'd go to a different restaurant," he told them with a sigh.

"But?" Damian asked. There had to be a 'but' in there somewhere to explain the lobster's presence in the manor.

"'But'," Bruce added, "lobsters are salt-water creatures. It would have died in the freshwater of Lake Michigan."

"Yes, well, I know that _now_ ," Dick said. "But, if I continued to wish to remain a hero in her eyes, I had to make certain the lobster continued existing. So, we stopped by the 24-hour Carlmart on the way back and now there is a pink plastic swimming pool in our bedroom. I'll need to see about getting something long-term in the morning."

"You bought a lobster a kiddie pool?" Tim burst out laughing.

"From which it apparently escaped after we left it alone," Dick nodded.

"And all this," Bruce motioned to mess still covering the kitchen counters.

"We're still hungry," Dick admitted. "She made an anti-pasta salad but that alone didn't cut it, so . . ."

"Chicken-Mozzarella tortellini," Tim finished, swiping one of the pasta from the bowl and tossing it into his mouth. "Aah, hot!" he exclaimed seconds later, spitting the pasta back into his hand.

"Idiot," Damian scoffed. "He just took it out of boiling water!"

Dick took the skillet from Alfred and poured the spinach sauce over the pasta left in the bowl and then rinsed the pan before setting it into the sink.

"No worries, Alfred," he told the butler. "We'll clean up after ourselves. Now, enough about my evening. How was patrol? If you hadn't been back before we finished up here, I might have joined you."

"You weren't missing much," Tim said, blowing on his pasta. He was determined to eat it. "Just Killer-Croc making a mess down at the wharf."

He raised an eyebrow. "Where was this exactly? Elle and I were down on the boardwalk."

"Ooh, did you go to The Sea Shack?" Tim asked, changing the subject back to the couple's evening. "I heard that place was really terrific."

"You'll have to tell me about it, then," Dick muttered, as he tossed the pasta lightly in the sauce. He looked at the expectant faces around him and down at the tortellini. "Might as well get a plate if you want some."

Bruce picked one out of the bowl and blew on it. "I already had a sandwich when we got back." He popped the tortellini into his mouth as he moved to leave. Two chews in, he halted and looked back in surprise. "That's delicious!"

Tim was making noises as he, too, enjoyed his stolen piece. He quickly went to the cupboard and pulled out a plate. "I'll take some." Tim shoved the plate at his brother.

Dick blinked. "You act like you've never eaten her cooking before."

"That's because we didn't know how much of the meal she actually did herself," Tim told him. "Sorry, Elle," he apologized to the absent woman. "But we've never met anyone who could cook as well as Alfred before."

"I'll have you know, Master Timothy, on that particular day, I only made the salad," Alfred murmured.

"Here, Alfred," Dick handed a plate of Elle's chicken-mozzarella tortellini to the older man. "You have to try it, too."

The butler waved him off. "Nonsense. You and Miss Arabella made that meal for yourselves."

"She'd be hurt if you didn't at least try it, Alf," Dick put the plate into the butler's hands. "Go on. She always makes extra."

* * *

"Yes, please," Elle said as she reentered the kitchen. "I want your professional opinion. And don't spare my feelings."

Tim moaned around a mouthful as Bruce plucked another tortellini from the young man's plate. "Mm, are you going to open a restaurant, Elle? Please, say yes!" the teen begged.

She laughed as she took a plate from Dick. She looked pleased with her portion. "You didn't overcook it! Yay for you!" she exclaimed happily and gave Dick a quick kiss on the cheek. "No plans to go pro, Tim, no." She took a bite and smiled, satisfied with her and Dick's efforts.

"You're teaching Dick to cook?" Bruce asked.

"He's improved since the last month despite the lack of practice," she told him after she swallowed.

"Brave woman," Tim snorted in amusement but Dick didn't rise to the bait.

"Exceptional, Miss Arabella," Alfred complimented after a bite. "You are quite brilliant in the kitchen, if I do say so. Where did you study?"

"That's quite a compliment coming from you, Alfred" Elle smiled. "Actually, I learned under the tutelage of my grandmother. She was fond of dinner parties and I was expected to help out in the kitchen whenever I was in residence."

"It is very good," Bruce concurred. "Perhaps you should consider opening a restaurant."

"No. Thank you, but no. I only cook for family," Elle told them.

"Not half bad," Damian added once he had swallowed.

By this time Elle had figured Damian out enough to know that was his version of high praise. She obliged by spooning several more tortellini onto his plate. Bruce continued to refuse a plate and pick pasta off of the plates of those around him, studiously ignoring Alfred's scandalized expression.

"Watching your weight, Bruce?" Dick teased.

"Beware," he warned. "It gets harder as you get older to keep it off."

Elle tried to imagine what Bruce would look like without the crazy workout schedule he kept and choked. Dick obliged by pounding her on the back while Alfred rushed to hand her a glass of water. Tears were leaking by the time Elle got herself under control. She glanced around at the wide-eyed faces surrounding her and laughed.

"You all are so used to people getting shot or poisoned or beaten and something as mundane as choking on a piece of pasta freaks you out?" she giggled, the picture of a fat Bruce Wayne trying to worm his way into a Batman suit was still etched in the back of her mind.

"You have a strange sense of humor," Damian commented.

Elle wiped the tears from her eyes. "You have no idea, little man," she snorted.

* * *

Dick began washing dishes as Elle wiped counters. They had to shoo Alfred out of the kitchen as they bid the others good night. Damian paused by the door.

"Are you coming out with us tonight, Grayson, or are you going to allow yourself to become lazy and fat?" The boy asked, utterly serious.

"Oh, it is already tomorrow, isn't it?" Elle said, startled. She didn't know why she was surprised since everyone was back from patrol but the evening had flown by so quickly. Elle glanced over to see how Dick would answer the question.

"I can't tonight, Damian," he told the boy. "I have a previous engagement. Today is now officially Valentine's Day."

"What's that? And why would it prevent you from patrolling? Criminals seem to come out in greater numbers for holidays," Damian asked. "It _is_ a holiday, I assume? There seems to be too many of them as it is."

Dick waited for Elle to rescue him but she just tilted her head. "It's a day celebrating . . . um, well, love," he explained.

" _Love_?" Damian scoffed. "You people made a holiday for _that_?"

Elle blinked huge eyes. "Well, don't look at me! _**I**_ didn't do it!"

"You'll understand soon enough," Dick smirked.

Damian rolled his eyes. "Enough with the unspoken references to puberty, Grayson. I'm not one to wax sentimental over silliness. Being of a more sober nature than you, I wouldn't waste my time with such mawkish trivialities while crimes are being perpetrated."

The couple exchanged glances and Elle had to bite her cheek to keep from snickering. Damian didn't have a developed sense of humor to not be offended by their amusement. He wasn't fooled, however, and recognized the strain.

"Tt," he clicked his tongue at them and shoved out the door in a huff.

"He'll figure it out for himself soon enough," Dick grinned as he folded the dishcloth and hung it on the oven door to dry. "You finished?"

"I am now," Elle called out from the pantry where she was putting the flour away.

As they made their way back towards the foyer and the staircase, they spotted Damian hovering near the landing. He looked up as they approached.

"You should just boil him," the boy snarked, waving a hand. Earl was crawling along the carpet toward the next set of steps.

"How?" Elle exclaimed. She scooped the errant lobster back into her arms and hurried up the stairs. "We need to call about an aquarium first thing in the morning."

"You should have named him Houdini," Dick called after her. Of all the lobsters in the tank at The Sea Shack, he had to rescue the one who was an accomplished escape artist.

"Tt . . . You are so whipped," Damian said as he turned in the direction of his room in the opposite wing. "I'd have just eaten him."

"And _that_ is why you will grow old, cold and alone," Dick told the boy but he, too, wondered if he shouldn't have just eaten the lobster.

Damian disappeared down the opposite hall, unconcerned with Dick's prophecy. And, why would he? Damian didn't like girls, yet. Dick smirked as he trotted toward his and Elle's bedroom. He would, though, and Dick just hoped he'd be around enough to see it.

* * *

Dick walked into the room to see Elle feeding Earl by hand. "What are you doing? Do you want to get pinched by him?"

"He won't pinch me, silly," she insisted.

Dick watched, prepared to help her pry the claws apart if necessary but, damned if she wasn't right. He frowned as he watched the lobster crawl up into an almost begging position and carefully remove the tiny krill Elle held on her hand for him . . . All of it accomplished without pinching.

Dick began to wonder if maybe she could communicate psychically with the lobster like Aquaman could but was just unaware of the talent. He didn't know how something like that worked. Obviously, the fish didn't have an actual language base, so it was possible that Elle was projecting her feelings onto the lobster without a conscious effort and the beastie was responding to her.

Very few had this ability, even among pure-blooded Atlantians. Aquaman, of course, as did Aqualad or Tempest as Garth was now called. His teammate and friend had outgrown his previous incarnation as had Dick. Tempest patrolled the seas and seldom came ashore anymore. In fact, it had been over three years since the two of them had seen one another. Dick made a mental note to include Garth in their wedding invitation that he would give to Aquaman.

Elle finished up by splashing a little briny water over Earl's gills and giving him a stroke down his back. The lobster appeared to enjoy her attention. How odd . . .

He moved over to the bed as Elle washed her hands before joining him there. She crawled in to cuddle with him. Elle was growing increasingly fond of cuddling the longer winter continued. The season had lost all its charm and she scooted up against him, using his body heat to warm her hands and feet. He jumped a little at the cold at first but soon they were both cocooned under the covers and toasty warm.

"So, what do you want to do tomorrow?" he asked her.

"You mean, today? Everything is already set. First, we get Earl's aquarium and then we go to the karaoke bar." She murmured into his neck.

He tilted his head to make room for her to nibble. Weirdly, this has always tickled before but Elle had a technique that sent electricity rocketing through his body and down to . . . well, just down. He sighed with pleasure every time she would speak against his skin.

"Karaoke? Really? That's what you want to for Valentine's Day?" _Hm, go figure_ . . .

She giggled and his body tightened as did his arms around her.

"I happen to like karaoke. And, I haven't sung in front of people in so long," she lamented.

He had to admit, it _had_ been a while.

Elle continued. "And, we _did_ promise Jason we would help him with his case."

The smile of contentment fell off of his face as his eyes flew open. Dick rolled onto his side and looked down at her in consternation. "That's today?!"

Her fingers traced over his lips teasingly. It tickled and he licked them.

"That's tonight," she clarified for him.

"Are you sure?" _Maybe she got the date wrong_ . . .

"Positive. He called just before we left to confirm."

He dropped back onto the bed in annoyance and Elle took a turn leaning over him. "You should have let me talked to him," he grumbled.

"You're not changing your mind about going with us, are you?" she asked him.

He glared at her. " _No_! There's no way I'm letting you get anywhere near criminal activity without me there to protect you. _Especially_ if you're singing! These guys deal in human cargo, sweetheart. I don't want them to get any ideas, you know? Your voice is like a dream. You'd make a valuable commodity."

"I'm sure between the two of you, I'll be perfectly safe," she assured him. "These sound like real scumbags and I'm happy to help distract them for a few minutes if it helps to bring them down and save lives," she declared firmly. "I _want_ to help."

"I know you do but you have to promise that you will stay alert, and _don't_ go to the bathroom by yourself," he told her.

Elle smirked at him. "One of you will be going to be following me into the restroom? You're not serious, are you?"

"Completely," Dick stressed.

"I don't think I could go with one of you guys in the room," she complained.

"Then you better go before we get there and hold when we do," he told her.

She frowned at him, pouting. He kissed her bottom lip, playfully.

"It wouldn't be Jason going into the bathroom with you, anyway" he said to make her feel better. "I'd be the one to accompany you."

She made a face. "That doesn't make it better."

He looked confused. "What's the problem? You use the bathroom when I'm showering sometimes."

"Yeah, but that's when you're _showering_! The water makes noise and the fan is running and you can't . . . you know," Elle cringed a little, " _hear_ . . . stuff," she finished lamely, waving a hand in the air.

Dick burst out laughing.

She smacked his chest. "Oh, shut up! You guys are so disgusting! You all stand in a line and watch each other pee! You don't care about a woman's sensibilities."

"We don't watch each other pee," he chuckled. "Are you telling me women can't hear other women peeing in the stalls next to them?"

"That's different!" she insisted. "Those are other women. It still isn't comfortable, at least for me, but it's not like having to go in front of men!"

"Sweetie, we're getting married," Dick gaped at her. "We're bonded already and, frankly, my love, we've been in far more intimate situations than sharing a bathroom."

She blew out a breath in frustration. "You know nothing!"

"I know that if it bothers you that badly, you probably shouldn't drink much during the day," he said. Elle narrowed her eyes at him and Dick added to soothe her, "Okay, okay! If you _have_ to go while we're there, I'll turn on the faucet for you."

Elle pursed her lips as she stared down at his amused face.

"My hero," she muttered sarcastically but she didn't balk when the hero in question decided to claim his reward early. Instead, she purred . . .

* * *

 **REACTIONS?**

 **I missed you all. Looking forward to seeing how you like this chapter. Just a bit of silly before we have a bit of excitement.**

 **(And if any of you think Elle's grandparents were mean, back in the day, this was a common thing if someone rudely refused to eat what had been prepared for dinner. You ate what your mother made or you didn't eat. My parents weren't being cruel, mind, there was usually plenty of other things to eat at the table but you through a fit and off you went. )**

 **Oh, yes, and for those of you who like to remind me that Damian is a vegetarian, he didn't become one until the advent of Batcow. This hasn't yet happened in my story. He avoids some meats but eats chicken, turkey, and seafood at this time.**


	22. The Karaoke Bar - Pt 1

**" I Haven't Met You Yet" written by Michael Buble, Alan Chang, and Amy Foster-Gilles** **. Released on Aug. 2009 on the album, Crazy Love, under the label 143*Reprise.**

 **" Quando, Quando, Quando" was written by Tony Renis in 1962. It was originally in Italian. The version I use comes from the album, It's Time, and performed by Michael Buble and Nelly Furtado. **

**I own neither song . . . Just love them and thought they would work very nicely here. Check them out for yourself.**

 **WARNING: Some Strong Language . . .**

* * *

The door opened even as their visitor knocked.

"Hey! Hope you guys aren't naked," Jason yelled as he entered the bedroom with a hand over his eyes, just in case. "You weren't in the office, and time stops for no man . . . Or woman. Not being misogynist here or whatever."

"Oh my God! Jason! We're naked! Get out!" Elle shrieked, causing Jason to jump back, bumping into the door. But that only caused the door to ricochet off the wall with a bang and slam into him a second time.

"What the fuck!" He stumbled, blushing hard as he attempted to get out of the room without looking.

He hadn't actually thought he would be interrupting anything when he decided to startle the couple in their room. He had just seen Damian coming down the hall just a few minutes before. Surely, they couldn't have started ripping off clothes and getting jiggy with it _that_ quickly? He ran into the doorframe, practically falling into the hall when he heard Elle and Dick laughing. Jason looked back as he climbed to his feet, peeking at them from between his fingers. When he saw the couple was standing beside a huge aquarium and dressed for a night out, he dropped his hand and stomped back inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

"Why the hell did you scream like that for?" he demanded to know. His annoyance and embarrassment leant a sharp note to his voice.

Elle was doubled over, holding her side, laughing. "Oh, I'm sorry," she gasped, then glanced up at the angry face he wore and immediately burst into another fit of laugher. She was waving at him; whether she wanted his forgiveness or for him to sit down or go away, he couldn't tell.

Dick had both hands on his knees as he bent over, wheezing. "Oh, God! Your face . . ."

Jason blew out a breath in annoyance and muttered dryly, "Oh, yeah. A laugh-riot, Dickface - Not." He frowned at the aquarium. _Is that a lobster_? _Dickiebird is getting weirder every time I see him_. "What the hell is that?"

"Then, you were bouncing off the doorframe with your hands over your eyes," Dick guffawed, ignoring his question.

"Hey! It wasn't _that_ funny," Jason grumped.

"Stop! You're going to make my mascara run," Elle begged. When she was finally able to catch her breath, she walked over to him, giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Jason huffed, refusing to return either.

"Don't pout," she teased. "You were the one that burst into our _bedroom_ , remember?"

"What are you trying to say," he asked carefully, one eyebrow raised sardonically. "That I deserved it?"

"Well . . . yes," Elle told him, surprised. "You did come in here with your hand over your eyes. What were you expecting to find if not the two of us in a . . . ahem, compromising situation?"

He had been expecting to scare the shit out of them, truth be told. Dick was still laughing his ass off. Jason punched him in the arm, knocking him over. Dick fell into one of the upholstered chairs, still laughing, as he rubbed his arm.

"Hey!" Elle yelped angrily.

Jason turned his head only to have Dick's fiancée punch him in the jaw. " _Ow_! What the hell?"

"Don't hit him," she glared at him as she shook her hand out.

The training he knew Elle was receiving was starting to show. Her punches had improved. That hurt.

"I didn't hurt him, lambchop," he told her. "It was just a love-tap. This is how brothers say I love you. It's what we do!"

Elle narrowed her eyes. "Figure out another way to tell him you love him, then," she snapped at him.

Jason held up his hands in self-defense. "Fine, whatever. Are you two ready to go?"

"Yeah, we're ready," Dick said, regaining his feet. He was still chuckling.

The huge tank caught Jay's attention again and he walked over to it to stare at the lobster moving along the bottom.

"What's with dinner?" he asked, only to receive a shoe to the back of his head. He glared at Elle. "Would you stop!"

"That is Earl," she snapped. "He's _not_ dinner! Keep it up, Jason, and you'll be going to the bar alone tonight."

"Earl? What the f-,"

"Earl is my Valentine's Day present to Elle," Dick interrupted him.

"What? You couldn't just take her out to dinner like everyone else?" Jason snorted.

"Jason . . ." Elle said with a warning in her tone. "Earl is our pet lobster. He's a member of this family and you will treat him accordingly."

He stood there and stared at the two of them for a moment. He looked at Dick. "She's kidding, right? Tell me she's kidding."

Dick shrugged, a sheepish smile on his face. "Nope! Elle has a thing for lobsters, apparently."

"So, do I, but I like mine with butter," Jason grunted. He didn't have to dodge the next shoe as it flew past his head, missing him by a foot, at least. "Okay! Okay! I'd better stop while you're still dressed," he joked as Elle stomped past him barefooted in order to pick up her shoes.

Elle grabbed his arm to maintain her balance as she slipped first one shoe and then the other back on her feet. Although his abuser annoyed him, he held still for her anyway, but Jason entertained himself briefly with visions of Elle falling on her ass if he moved just a little to his right.

"That's what you're wearing?" Elle asked as she noticed Jason's outfit for the first time.

He looked down at himself. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

She blinked and shook her head. "Nothing," she said too quickly.

"What? Oh, no you don't! What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Jason asked again. He looked at Dick. "Do _you_ have a problem with what I wearing, too?"

Dick smirked. "Leave me out of this."

Jason glanced at Dickhead's outfit, a light, gray sweater with a pair of navy-blue Dockers and a matching jacket. Elle wore a black, pencil skirt with a off-the-shoulder, long-sleeved sweater in gray and high heels. He scowled.

"Are you two supposed to be matchy-matchy or something?" he asked, in an accusatory tone. "I hope you weren't expecting me to do the same."

Dick snorted and Elle laughed.

"Not hardly, but your t-shirt has a hole in it," she told him. "Is that an oil-stain on your jeans?" She looked at him incredulously. "And you wanted me to pretend to be your date? Surely, you wouldn't have showed up wearing the same stuff you wore while working on your bike? Did you at least shower first?"

Jason lifted his t-shirt up and sniffed. "Smells alright," he shrugged.

Elle rolled her eyes and headed toward the closet, disappearing inside. Jason looked back at his brother, beginning to feel a little nervous.

"What's she doing?"

Dick sat back down. "She's going to dress you appropriately, I imagine."

Jason scowled. "Oh no. I like these jeans . . . and my holey t-shirt!" he yelled the last part so that Elle could hear him.

"You look like a homeless bum," Elle's voice drifted out from the closet. "I checked out the place we're going to and there is a dress code."

"Seriously?" Jay gaped. "It's a freaking bar?"

"It's a karaoke bar," she corrected, reappearing with a pair of Dick's jeans and a couple of long-sleeved pullovers. She laid them on the bed. "It isn't the Ritz," she promised him. "You can still wear jeans but they need to be clean at the very least."

"I don't know if you noticed or not," Jason grumbled, "but Dickiebird and I aren't the same size."

She smiled soothingly. "I know," she crooned at him. "These are a little loose on him. They might be a little snug on you but they should still work." She winked at him. "The ladies certainly won't complain if they are a bit tight."

Jason glanced back at Dick. "Are you going to just sit there?"

"You do look a little shabby," he admitted. "That's fine for hanging out at a biker's bar but if Elle says you'll look out of place at a karaoke bar, then you might want to change."

"Unless you _want_ to stand out," Elle told him. She held out the jeans and a thermal pullover.

Jason took the shirt and tossed it back on the bed. "It's gray. I'm not going to go in there looking like the two of you."

Elle laughed. "Fine, Dick has a bunch of these. How about red," she offered, "like the Red Hood."

Jason took the black jeans and headed into the bathroom. "Red's good," he muttered. "I can't believe I'm going to do this." He slammed the door shut behind him.

When he reappeared, Elle was standing there with a deep-red, thermal pullover. Jason eyed it but it looked like something he might have picked out for himself. He tugged his black t-shirt from over his head and threw it back into the bathroom where he had left his dirty jeans on the floor.

Elle whistled at him appreciatively as he pulled the shirt over his head. He glared at her but she only laughed at him again.

"The ladies are going to love you tonight," she assured him changing her shoes to knee-high, black, low-heeled boots. "These will be better if that storm hits Gotham while we're still out." Elle explained. She smirked when Jason flinched as she picked up her heels to put them away. "Don't worry, Jason. You look hot."

He grunted as he tucked the shirt into his jeans. Dick's clothes were snug but he wasn't going to strangle in them. He leaned back into the bathroom to snag his shoulder holsters from the counter and began putting them back on.

"What are you doing?" Elle asked. "Why are you wearing your guns?"

He looked up, puzzled. "I always wear my guns. Look, Dick was right when he said these guys don't play nice. I don't care how fancy this place is, I'm not going in there unarmed."

She blinked. "It's not fancy, just not crappy," she murmured.

Dick moved over and rubbed his hands over her shoulders. "You don't have to go, if you don't want to. We can go without you or find another way to get Jason's information."

Jason scowled at him. "I'm not going in there wearing these jeans with another guy. The plan was for Elle to distract them on stage while I planted the bug on one of them so I could listen in on their conversation with this new contact."

"That's still going to happen," Elle snapped. "I'm not backing out."

"Don't you have an ankle holster?" Dick asked him, sighing.

"Of course. Never go anywhere without it." Jay tugged up one of his pantlegs. It was tight but they both saw the snub-nosed pistol hidden beneath the top of his boot. "I won't be able to reach it easily in these jeans if I end up needing it," he complained, squatting to stretch the denim out.

"Are you expecting to need them?" Dick frowned. "If you think this thing will deteriorate into a firefight, Elle's staying here."

"No, I'm not," she blurted but the brothers were ignoring her now.

"If things go as planned, and your chick can keep their attention, then we should be in and out without a problem."

"Could you handle any problems that might come up without an arsenal at your disposal?" Dick asked, smirking. "You do remember how to use your fists, don't you?"

Jay snorted. "I could whip _your_ ass with both hands tied behind my back."

Dick grabbed his arm. "Just as long as you remember your promise," he warned him.

"What promise?" Elle looked between them. "Am I missing something?"

"I remember," Jason snapped, pulling his arm free. "I'm not a total asshole."

"Then we understand each other," Dick said, "Let's go. Time's wasting."

Elle grabbed her own jacket and followed them out, shutting the door behind her. "What promise?"

Dick helped her into her coat as they moved towards the stairs, then threw an arm over her shoulders. "If anything goes wrong tonight, you will find the nearest exit and head for the car. I'll catch up with you a little while later."

"Do you expect trouble tonight?" For the first time, she felt a little flutter of unease.

"Not a bit," he said, and planted a kiss on the top of her head.

* * *

"Do you see them?" Elle asked, looking around the club as Dick took her coat for her.

The place wasn't a typical bar. It was actually pretty nice, and it was crowded with groups of friends and couples.

"Yes, they're here," Jason answered. He led them over to a table near the middle of the room.

"Really? Where?" she asked, glancing around again curiously.

Jason tugged out a chair and pushed her down into it, shoving her close to the table. "Quit looking around," he warned. "You might tip them off."

Dick hung her jacket on the back of the chair and set next to her on her left while Jason took a seat across from her, the easier to keep an eye on what was going on in the booth near the back of the room.

"I can't help it," Elle exclaimed. "It's my first sting operation."

Both men started laughing, drawing a blush from her as she frowned at them.

"What?"

Dick leaned close. "It's not exactly a ' _sting_ ' operation. We're just here to gather a little information."

She made a face. "Like I know what to call it. Whatever it is, it's my first time."

"Is it your first time in a karaoke bar?" the waitress asked, overhearing them. She was not much taller than Elle herself, with long, golden blonde hair that was swept up in a bun and wearing a light-blue shirt that matched her eyes.

Elle glanced down at her shoes and winced at the three-inch stiletto heels. "Ouch. Do you really work all night in those?"

The blonde looked down at her shoes and shrugged. "I'm used to it. And, believe it or not, they come in handy on some nights," she told them confidentially. "I'm Nikki, by the way. I'm your waitress for the night. If this is your first time, let me give you the run-down on how things work here," she said, pulling a book from the center of the table and setting it down in front of Elle. "This is a list of all our songs. You look through them and pick something out you like, then write your name and the number of the song on this paper and give it to me. I'll take it up the DJ and when it is your turn, he'll call you up."

"Oh, um, okay," Elle smiled. "Thanks, but it really isn't _my_ first time singing at a place like this. I was talking about something else. But it _is_ the first time for the guys, so thanks for explaining that for me."

Nikki laughed. "Oh, whoops! Well, glad to help. It's kind of part of the job. I explain to everybody. Can I get you something to drink to start out?"

"I'll just have a water with lemon," Elle told her. "I never drink if I plan to sing."

Nikki grinned. "Most people need a shot of liquid courage to get up in front of a bunch of people and perform. What about your friends?"

Dick and Jason both ordered beer. Jason watched as Nikki sashayed away.

Elle followed Jay's line of sight. "Are you going to ask her out?"

Jason looked a little startled. "Ah, no. Not my type," he mumbled.

Elle looked skeptical. "Really? You sure about that?" She watched as Nikki gave their order to the bartender. "She's kind of cute."

Jason pushed the book of songs over towards her. "Just pick your song. I'm here on business, remember?"

She and Dick shared a smirk as Elle scanned the offerings.

"Do you see anything you like?" Dick asked her as he slid an arm onto the back of her chair.

Elle smiled up at him. "I like _you_ ," she murmured seductively, leaning over to nuzzle his jaw and making him grin. He kissed her lightly at her demand.

It had been so long since the two of them had been out like this. They had had to abort their dinner out the other evening, so this was officially the first time since before the attack. Elle shivered a little as the memory washed over her unexpectedly. Dick noticed and scooted a little closer, tugging her against him.

"Cold?" he asked. "Do you need your jacket?"

"No," she assured him, although she luxuriated in Dick's body heat as she leaned against him. "This is fine."

"When do you need her to go up?" Dick asked Jason.

"Not yet. This is only one half of the party, apparently. The men that Willie Shay is supposed to be meeting aren't here yet," he told them.

"Do you know who it is you're looking for or you'll find out when they show up?" Dick asked.

"I don't know these guys who are supposed to meet up here. Rumor has it, they're hooked up with some new guy from Turkey."

"Turkey?" Elle tilted her head.

"Here you go," Nikki announced suddenly, passing out the drinks between them. "I don't know if the kitchen has turkey but I'm pretty sure it has chicken and hamburgers. Would you like me to ask?"

"Um, sure," Jason smiled at their server. "I'll take a turkey club if you got it. You guys want something?"

"You buying?" Dick grinned.

"Cheapskate! You're the one with the rich fiancée" Jason tossed a wadded up napkin at his older brother.

"Good point," Elle interrupted. "I'll pick up the tab for everything tonight," she told their waitress. "I'm not hungry yet. Dick? You want something?"

Dick was currently scowling at Jay. He didn't appreciate the insinuation that he was only with Elle for her money. His stomach growled. Elle and the waitress were looking at him knowingly. "Yeah, sure. Cheeseburger with everything," he muttered, sheepishly.

Elle kissed him, and he promptly forgot his annoyance.

"Mm, what was that for?" he asked her, nuzzling her ear.

"For letting me pick up the tab tonight," she told him. "I know you like to pay our way but the money will only sit there accruing interest if I don't spend a little. Dinner seems like such a small thing."

Dick sighed but didn't grumble about it. Elle was truly happy tonight and he didn't want to screw it up with an argument he couldn't win anyway. She was still insisting that her money was his money but Dick had a hard time seeing it that way. He had money, actually. The small life insurance policy out on his parents' lives Bruce had turned over to Lucius early on, after Dick had first moved into the manor. Over the course of years, that amount had grown exponentially and Dick, if not the multimillionaire his fiancée was, was extremely well off. He just preferred not to touch it and to live off what he could earn as a police officer.

"Whatever makes you happy," he told her.

When Elle kissed him again, Jason made gagging noises. "I see why the little twerp was complaining. I should have come alone and let you two get a room for the night or something."

Elle laughed and turned to give Dick a more passionate kiss just to annoy him. It worked. Jason picked up his beer and turned around to look at some of the other people in the bar. Some guy was up there crooning some kind of love song to one of the women sitting at a table near them.

They were a big group and had pulled two tables together in order to accommodate their size. Five women and another man sat together. It didn't take a genius to guess which chick he was serenading either. The woman in question was twenty-something with short, blonde hair, lighter than that of their waitress. When he was finished, he announced that it was his girlfriend's birthday and invited everyone in the bar to sing Happy Birthday to her. The young woman blushed at the attention as her table burst into song. Elle elbowed Dick into singing as well while Jason finished his beer and waved to Nikki for another.

They watched as a couple of the women ran up to the stage next, giggling. It was obvious that they had several shots of liquid courage already. Dick wasn't sure if the alcohol was to blame for how bad they were or if they had been terrible to begin with but he grinned at the good time they were having. Elle laughed as she watched. For a Siren whose life revolved around music, she had no trouble enjoying even poorly-rendered songs as long as everyone was having a good time.

"Jason," Elle leaned over and spoke loudly enough to be heard over the caterwauling on stage. "You have to go up and sing!"

"What?" Jason sent her a startled look. "No! That's what I brought you here for. I have to keep a lookout . . ." but Elle was already waving at the waitress.

Dick laughed at Jay's panic. "It's fine. I'll watch over your friends for you while you sing."

"Nobody wants to hear me sing. Remind your fiancée that this isn't really a night out on the town. We're here for another reason," Jason grumbled.

Elle turned around. "I remember just fine, thank you, but there's no reason we can't mix business with pleasure. It will make us look more 'legit'."

"She has a point," Dick laughed at Jay's expression.

"Fine! But you're going to get up there, too," Jason snapped. "I'm not doing this alone."

Elle's eyes widened as she grinned. "Ooh, a duet?"

"No!" Dick and Jason yelped together. Dick shook his head. "No duet for me unless it's with you."

"Hey! If I have to get up there by myself, then you should . . ."

"Hey! Get off the stage! Boo!" A voice interrupted Jason. Several people turned around to frown at him. The drunk was unimpressed. "You suck! Who's next . . ." he yelled at the two women.

"What a jerk!" Elle complained.

The drunk threw a handful of lemon slices at the stage but he was either too far away or his aim sucked. A few of the slices hit the back of a woman's head sitting nearby with her husband. The man stood up angrily.

Jason caught Dick's eye. "We can't afford a bar fight before the rest of our guys show up."

Dick leapt up, intercepting the husband in an effort to calm him down. "Take it easy, buddy," he said. "That asshole isn't worth getting kicked out of here. He's drunk and no one is hurt."

"Not yet, anyway," the man growled, attempting to go around him but Dick held the guy back by his shoulders.

At the bar, Jason leaned over the counter and ordered a beer. He looked at the drunk. "Keep it down, numbnuts," he told him. "People are here to have a good time."

"My ears ain't having a good time," the drunk complained. He picked up a handful of peanuts to throw next but Jason caught his wrist.

"You don't want to go starting a fight," he warned.

The bartender handed Jason his beer. "I'll call the bouncer," he offered.

"You do that," Jay told him.

Then, grabbing his beer in one hand, Jason turned around swinging his elbow. It connected with the drunk's temple hard enough to stagger him. Jay grabbed him with his free hand to keep him from landing on the floor and helped him back onto his stool.

"Oh, man! Hey, I'm sorry about that. You okay?" Jason asked the dazed man. When he blinked at him confused, Jay set the beer down in front of him. "Here," he said. "You take this as an apology. I'm just a klutz this evening. Here," he shoved the beer into the guy's hand. "Drink this. You'll feel better in a few."

The drunk looked down into the beer and back up at Jason, blinking dazedly.

"It's free," Jay assured him. "Just sit there and take it easy."

The guy stared after Jason as he walked away before slipping off of the stool and onto the floor just as the bouncer arrived to catch him.

"Buddy, I think it's time for you to go home," the bouncer told him as he hauled the semi-conscious guy to his feet.

Jason sat down at the table and sighed. "I don't know about you two but I feel better," he said as he picked up his own beer and drank deep.

Elle watched the drunk being dragged out of the bar and then turned back. The women's song was just finishing. They hadn't even noticed the incident as they tripped their way back to their table, giggling.

"That was some smooth choreography," she noted. "Who decides who handles who?"

Dick shrugged. "My guy," he indicated the husband who had returned to his seat, "was stone-cold sober and pissed. Jason would have only made _that_ situation worse."

Jay sat down his beer. "Trust me. I know how to deal with drunks."

Elle looked at the doorway through which the drunk had disappeared. "You sure do."

Another woman from the table made her way to the stage to people's chanting, "Leah! Leah! Leah!" Elle nudged Dick and nodded to Jason whose beer had frozen halfway to his mouth. He was staring at the newcomer to the stage with stunned eyes.

Elle whispered, "I think we know his type now."

Leah was a stunning mulatto with creamy, caramel-colored skin. Her medium-brown hair was long with loose, corkscrew curls and streaked liberally with blonde but it was her light green eyes that took your breath away. She was wearing a blue, flannel shirt over a black turtleneck and black jeans. Comfortable, casual clothes that she made somehow into a fashion statement.

"Wow," Dick murmured. "Jay looks like someone just beamed him in the head with a brick."

Elle leaned back against Dick's chest as she prepared to enjoy the show but she was watching her future brother-in-law as much as she did Leah's performance. Unlike her friends, Leah's sultry voice was quite lovely.

I'm not surprised  
Not everything lasts  
I've broken my heart so many times,  
I stopped keepin' track.  
Talk myself in  
I talk myself out  
I get all worked up  
Then I let myself down.

I tried so very hard not to lose it  
I came up with a million excuses  
I thought, I thought of every possibility

And I know someday that it'll all turn out  
You'll make me work so we can work to work it out  
And I promise you, kid, that I'll give so much more than I get  
I just haven't met you yet

Mmm mmm mmm mmm mmm

I might have to wait  
I'll never give up  
I guess it's half timing  
And the other half's luck  
Wherever you are  
Whenever it's right  
You come out of nowhere and into my life

And I know that we can be so amazing  
And baby, your love is gonna change me  
And now I can see every possibility

Mmm

But somehow I know that will all turn out  
And you'll make me work so we can work to work it out  
And I promise you, kid, I'll give so much more than I get  
I just haven't met you yet

They say all's fair  
In love and war  
But I won't need to fight it  
We'll get it right  
And we'll be united

And I know that we can be so amazing  
And being in your life is gonna change me  
And now I can see every single possibility

Mmm

And someday I know it'll all turn out  
And I'll work, to work it out  
Promise you, kid, I'll give more than I get  
Than I get, than I get, than I get

Oh you know it will all turn out  
And you'll make me work, so we can work, to work it out  
And I promise you, kid, to give so much more than I get  
Yeah I just haven't met you yet

I just haven't met you yet  
Oh promise you, kid  
To give so much more than I get

I said love, love, love, love, love, love, love  
I just haven't met you yet  
Love, love, love, love, love, love  
I just haven't met you yet

When Leah finished singing, Jason sat up straight, slamming his beer down on the table with a thud as he clapped loudly. As Elle applauded, Dick waved over the waitress with a grin. Nikki leaned down to hear over the noise.

"Send another of whatever she's drinking to her table," Dick told her, indicating Leah who was bowing with a flourish. "Tell her it's from him," he said, pointing to his brother.

Nikki smiled, happy to be in on the prank. "Do I tell her a name?"

"Jason," Elle told her, grinning. "Say, he's an admirer."

Nikki straightened. "Will do!"

"She was really good, Jason," Elle caught Jay's attention. "You know, you should get up there and sing, too."

Jason scowled at her. "Why do you keep wanting me to sing?"

"Because it would be good for our cover," she told him. "And you sing wonderfully."

Jason looked at the two of them suspiciously. "Are you sure you two don't just want to make fun of me," he accused.

Elle frowned. "I would never make fun of your singing," she exclaimed, offended.

He held up his hands in surrender. "Fine! Whatever!"

"You know," Dick grinned. "You should ask her out."

"Who's that?" Jason asked, as he watched Leah walk back to the table with her group.

Elle laughed. "It's no wonder you're still single."

Jason dragged his gaze away. "I'm not here to score," he told them.

"Maybe not," she said, "but I think you totally could."

Jay frowned, glancing behind them at the other woman, a little surprised. "You think?" Then he waved his hands in front of his face. " _No_! _No_! Tonight is all business."

Elle slouched in her seat and picked up her water. "I don't see why it can't be both," she mumbled, pouting.

"Is she always like this?" he asked Dick, annoyed.

"Pretty much," Dick smiled and pressed his lips to the top of her head. "Perfect."

Elle rewarded him with a smile as she glanced around the crowded room.

"Hey!" Jason warned. "I told you, no looking around."

"I want to see if I know anyone," Elle explained.

"This is Gotham, not Bludhaven," Jason complained.

Elle smirked. "Like I've never gone out in Gotham before . . ."

Dick looked at her. "You've gone out in Gotham? _Without me_?"

"I had a life before you, you know," she told him. She shrugged one shoulder. "Sort of."

Dick blinked at what was for him a totally foreign concept. "Yeah, but it wasn't supposed to be any good . . . I mean, you know, before you met me."

Elle laughed at him only to break off abruptly and spin around in her seat. "Shoot!" she said, slouching in her chair. "Did he see me?"

Dick and Jason paused to glance around.

"Did who see you?" Dick asked her.

"Daniel," she whispered, ducking her head.

"That son of a bitch is here?" Dick started to stand up but Elle grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.

"No bar fights," she reminded him. "And it's okay. I kind of wondered if we would run into him. He's originally from Gotham City, after all."

"Who's Daniel?" Jason asked.

"An asshole who doesn't understand the word 'no'," Dick growled.

"You mean, this guy right here?"

Dick and Elle's heads swivel just as a man walked up to their table.

"Elle? Is that you?" Daniel asked, leaning over to get a good look at her.

"Oh, hi, Daniel." Elle's smile was less than enthusiastic. "How's the eye?"

Daniel blinked at the reminder but went on as if she hadn't said anything. "I didn't know you were in Gotham City."

"Surprise!" she said dryly. "I'm in Gotham City. So, how's the new album doing?"

Daniel pulled up a chair and sat down with them. "Oh, pretty good, actually. Could be doing a lot better if you hadn't ditched me before it was finished."

Dick glared and opened his mouth but said nothing as Elle pinched his side covertly.

"Are you next?" she asked politely. "You should get up there before the DJ gets annoyed."

Daniel glanced over at the DJ and waved. "Oh, Adam and I go way back. He'll wait for me," he assured them. "Especially if I can get you to join me in a song."

Dick started to stand and Elle jerked him back down by his belt.

"I don't think so," she muttered with a slight frown. "You should know by now how I feel about duets."

Instead of looking put out, Daniel laughed and waved the comment away. "Yeah, sure. How could I forget? That pic you took of me on your phone never hit the internet, though, I noticed."

Elle pursed her lips. "I still have it."

Daniel looked interested. "Do you? Do you look at it before you sleep at night?"

Dick growled.

"It'll only take a minute to post," Elle reminded him.

"I'm going! I'm going," Daniel smirked, holding his hands up. "But if you change your mind . . ." He stepped away and hurried up on the stage before Dick could lunge over the table at him. Daniel's entrance was met with raucous applause. He was obviously a crowd favorite here.

"You keep a picture of him on your phone?" Dick swung around to glare at her.

"Don't get your knickers in a wad," Elle replied. She pulled out her phone and brought up the picture in question, holding it up for him to see.

Dick blinked. "What the hell happened to him?"

" _ **I**_ did," she answered proudly. "Your lessons and my mace."

Jason reached across the table and yanked the phone out of her hand. He burst out laughing. "You did _that_?" he asked. "I thought you were worried about her. She looks plenty able to take care of herself to me."

Dick slumped back in his chair. "And yet, he didn't look especially put out tonight, did he? I bet if you'd have let me had a few minutes with him, he wouldn't have acted quite so chummy now."

Hearing Elle's name over the speaker system brought the trio up short. They glanced up at the stage to find Daniel holding a hand out in Elle's direction.

"Obviously, my friend is feeling a little bit shy tonight," Daniel was saying. "Give her a round of applause and let's see if we can get her up here. Trust me, you haven't heard anything until you've heard from the fabulous Elle Hamilton!"

Elle glared. "What are you doing?" she mouthed at him angrily. Every head in the place was focused on them now as a curious and polite round of applause went up to encourage her.

"Damn it," Jason griped. "He's drawing too much attention."

"Fine," Elle snapped, standing up. She shrugged off Dick's hand. "Go do your thing now, Jason. It will cause too much trouble if I ignore him." She glanced down at Dick's furious face. "Calm down. It's just a song. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"You don't have to do this," Dick told her.

"Yes, she does," Jason hissed at him. "I'll go do 'my thing' once they start performing, so don't screw this up by acting the jealous boyfriend. No bar fights, remember?"

"This is _your_ fault," Dick accused as he threw himself back into his chair.

"My fault?" Jason laughed. "How was I supposed to know she had a not-so-secret admirer? Of all the karaoke joints in this city and this guy happens to show up here, tonight," he muttered, palming the listening device in his pocket.

* * *

Elle walked up on stage and snatched the second mike. Holding it down at her side so the sound system wouldn't pick up her angry whisper, she hissed at him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? I'm here with my fiancé and his brother!"

"Really? They don't look that much alike," Daniel squinted in that direction.

"Not the point," Elle snarled quietly. "Tonight's Valentine's Day and _you_ are ruining it."

"I know what day it is," Daniel smiled. "I told you I'd get that duet with you. Maybe when you see how people react to us together, you'll dump that dick and come back to me."

"I was never _with_ you," she snapped.

"Hate the break up the lover's quarrel," Adam quipped from the side of the stage, "but what are you two singing?"

"Number sixty-four," Daniel told him.

Adam eyed her curiously. "Does she know it?"

Not that it mattered. It was a karaoke bar. The words would be up on the screen for her but Adam had been DJ-ing at the club for years and knew Daniel only liked to be seen in a good light. Singing with some chick who didn't know the music would only embarrass the man.

"Doesn't matter," Daniel assured him. "She makes everything sound great."

The music came on and, as he knew would happen, Elle's professionalism kicked in. She was still angry at him but she would never disappoint an audience. It wasn't in her DNA. He grinned as she recognized the song. As he figured . . . He had yet to find a song she didn't know. Whatever it was, she would automatically know exactly how to harmonize, when to come in and when to not, how to make him sound amazing.

It was why he wanted her to be his partner. Hell, he'd make her his wife in a heartbeat. Eventually, Elle would hit the circuit, instead of these dives she preferred, and go platinum at lightspeed. Daniel wanted to be a part of that and, as her husband, he stood to make a freaking fortune and would ride in on her coattails if he had to.

"Seriously?" she stared at him.

Daniel smiled at her and began to sing to her.

Tell me when will you be mine  
Tell me quando, quando, quando  
We can share a love divine  
Please, don't make me wait again

When will you say yes to me (Elle repeated him, singing. _When will you say yes to me_.)  
Tell me quando, quando, quando ( _Tell me quando, quando, quando_ )  
You mean happiness to me ( _You mean happiness to me_ )  
Oh, my love, tell me when (together)

Every moment's a day ( _Every moment's a day_ )  
Every day seems a lifetime ( _Seems_ . . . _Every day seems like a lifetime_ )  
Let me show you the way (together) ( _Let me show you the way_ )  
To a joy beyond compare (together)

 _I can't wait a moment more_  
 _Tell me quando, quando, quando_ (Daniel repeated her, singing. Tell me quando, quando, quando)  
 _Say it's me that you adore_  
And then, darling, tell me when (together)

Every moment's a day (together. _Every moment's a day_ )  
Every day seems a lifetime (together.)  
Let me show you the way (together. _Let me show you the way_ )  
To a joy beyond compare (together. _Humming_ . . . together)

I can't wait a moment more ( _I can't wait a moment more_ )  
Tell me quando, quando, quando (together)  
Say it's me that you adore (together)  
And then, darling, tell me when (together)

Oh, my darling, tell me when (together)  
And then, darling, tell me when (together)  
Oh, my darling, tell me when (together. _Humming_. . . together)

There followed a slight pause and then the applause started, several people gaining their feet in their enthusiasm. It was always the same with Elle beside him. Daniel could perform this song with any other woman and the applause would have been good but for some reason he couldn't quite fathom, when Elle sang with him, the crowd became more animated, more appreciative, even more enthusiastic.

Her voice was different somehow. There was an element to it that took it from merely good or great even . . . to _fantastic_! And she had the ability to bring every other singer right along with her for the ride. Whoever it was that she chose to sing with, Elle's voice seemed to bring the best out of them and they sounded better than they had ever before in their entire lives. If only he could capture that secret ingredient for himself . . . But the best he could ever hope for was to make her a part of his act.

Daniel had hoped, by proposing, he might have gotten her beside him permanently. It was a prop, sure. He was good, great even, but with Elle he could be a legend. He would have preferred to make it on his own but if the only way he could reach that pinnacle was as a duo, Daniel would take it.

He waved, the thrill was still there despite the small venue of the club. He imagined it many times ever since he discovered Elle's talent, more so in the last few months. Daniel's gaze landed on the man at her table. _Dick_ . . . He shook his head at the name. He had looked up the guy she was dating. A cop in Bludhaven! Not even a professional singer . . .

Now, what was she calling him? Her fiancé? No, that was unacceptable.

Daniel didn't know what he could do but he couldn't take this sitting down. Elle was meant to be a superstar and he was meant to be standing on that mountaintop with her.

* * *

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 **This should be interesting . . . Don't forget to leave review and tell me what you think! ;D**


	23. The Karaoke Bar - Pt 2

**It has taken me months to get this finished. I hope you haven't given up on me. Classes kept me very busy, and I still have more to go, so don't give up on me. Once I'm finished and things start settling down into a routine, I'll find writing time on a more regular basis.**

 **To help you remember what happened in the previous chapters, Jason had asked Elle's help with one of his cases. He needed to gain information on human traffickers in Gotham City and the meeting he wished to eavesdrop on is occurring in a karaoke bar. His plan is for Elle to distract the men enough with her singing that he would be able to get close enough to plant a listening device at their table. Dick refuses to let Elle out of his sight, worried that she'd become a target of unscrupulous men, and possibly get hurt in the process. The three of them go together. While there Jason sees a beautiful woman who snags his attention briefly. Elle and Dick decide to play cupid. Then Elle meets up with Daniel, a fellow singer who wants use Elle's magical voice to gain fame and fortune. Daniel pressures Elle to sing a duet with him, much to the annoyance of Dick. Jason is in the odd position of playing peacekeeper. Oh, and all this takes place on Valentine's Day . . . LOL! Enjoy another wild ride!**

 **Warnings: Language, Violence, and Mention of Sex Trafficking . . . (still only T rating)**

* * *

Dick was applauding for the half of the duet that belonged to him when Jason elbowed him in the side. He followed his brother's line of sight to the entrance. The Turks had arrived. They needed to plant that bug quickly, then.

"She needs to sing another song," Jason whispered. "Keep her up there while I go back."

Dick looked behind him. The bathrooms and the kitchens were near the back of the bar. Jason planned to stumble drunkenly into the table while on his way to the men's room in order to plant his listening device. He turned back to the stage, catching Elle's eye, he made a circular motion with his finger for her to continue.

She glanced at the door and saw the men standing in the entrance. They looked incredibly out of place as they began to make their way back to Willie Shay's table. None appeared even remotely interested in the entertainment. This obviously wasn't the kind of place these men would frequent normally. She made a move towards the D.J. when Daniel grabbed her arm, pulling her back into his chest. Before Elle could catch her balance, the man dipped her over his arm, planting his lips over hers to the immediate hoots and hollers of the audience.

The reason why they came to the bar fled Dick's mind as he jumped to his feet, intent on shoving every one of Daniel's teeth down the back of his throat. Jason grabbed his arm, yanking him back down into his seat, but it was everything Jay could do to keep his brother in place without creating a commotion they could ill afford. They needed to stay under the radar for a little while longer. He leaned in, hissing into Dick's ear.

"No fights! Calm the fuck down! It's just a kiss."

Dick jerked his arm free, moving to stand up again when Jason pulled him back down again, this time by his belt.

"What's the matter with you? She's fine. Let Elle handle it," Jay growled. "You're going to blow this for us!"

Dick was a second away from punching Jason in the face when Daniel released her. Stumbling back, Elle hauled back her arm, punching Daniel in the face hard enough that the man staggered. Raucous laughter followed. Simply rolling with it, Daniel raised his fists up in the air with a triumphant grin. The audience went wild.

Daniel stumbled down the steps and back toward his seat wiping the blood trickling from the side of his mouth with the back of one hand. Dick began to calm as he realized she had busted his lip with that punch. Elle scowled after the man as she shook her hand out. Meeting Dick's eyes, she further defused the situation with a wink before she walked over to the D.J. with her song request.

Jason slumped in his seat dramatically. "You, dumbass . . . I'm beginning to think I should have come by myself. What's with you? You're not usually so hotheaded like this."

" _This_ is why _I_ came," Dick snapped at him as he settled back into his seat. "Someone needs to look after her."

"Seems to me that she plenty capable of taking care of herself," Jason snorted as he watched Daniel wrap a couple of pieces of ice from his drink in a napkin and lay it over his mouth.

Dick followed his gaze. "That guy doesn't know when to quit."

"Look, after I get what we need, you have my permission to go back there and pound his bones into dust if you want. I'll even help," he offered. "I'll hold him down for you."

"Don't encourage me," Dick growled, still glaring at the man.

The waitress arrived just then with their food. Dick looked at it without much interest. He had lost his appetite while watching another man paw his woman. Jason, too, seemed to have forgotten he was hungry as he elbowed him and nodded at the stage.

Dick looked back as Elle settled behind the mike again. She was in her element and, when the music started, the audience was in the palm of her hand. As she started singing, people quieted, falling easily into her thrall. Her voice was hauntingly beautiful, magical . . . _Almost hypnotic_ , Dick thought to himself.

 _I gave you all the love I got  
I gave you more than I could give  
I gave you love  
I gave you all that I have inside  
And you took my love  
You took my love_

Although he was used to her voice, Dick still needed to shake his head to remember why they were there. He glanced at Jason, snorting when he found him staring at the stage, glassy-eyed and slack-jawed. Dick shook Jay's shoulder to wake him up.

 _Didn't I tell you  
What I believe  
Did somebody say that  
A love like that won't last  
Didn't I give you  
All that I've got to . . . give, baby_

"Hey! Go do your thing," Dick told him.

Jason blinked, coming out of his daze. He scowled at the stage. "What the fuck?" he grumbled, rubbing his forehead. "What the hell did she do to me?"

"You've heard her sing before," Dick said.

"Yeah, but it wasn't anything like this," Jay told him even as he quickly palmed the listening device in preparation.

Dick turned back to the stage. Elle seemed to have put something different into this performance. He had to admit that after their bond had been completed, while he loved her voice, even _needed_ to hear it, it no longer seemed to put him into the kind of thrall that it had previously. He had been told that, having so little Siren in her, Elle's ability to bespell an audience was minimal at best. That, as her bondmate, Dick would be largely immune to what little magic her voice could command, but tonight - Tonight, she had nearly taken him back to that pre-bond state.

 _I gave you all the love I got  
I gave you more than I could give  
I gave you love  
I gave you all that I have inside  
And you took my love  
You took my love_

Whatever she was doing, Dick knew it would give Jay the best chance to plant his bug at the table without detection.

"Everyone is paying attention to her now," Dick hissed to him. "Use the distraction to do your thing."

Jason blinked, needing to clear his head yet again. He stood, nodding. "Right. Going . . ."

 _I keep crying  
I keep trying for you  
There's nothing like you and I, baby_

Dick watched him weave his way toward the back. Jason was pretending to be drunk, but his acting skills were being wasted. No one paid him any mind. A second later he seemed to realize this as well. He stopped swaying and simply walked over to the table that held Willie Shay and his Turkish guests. None of the table's occupants even looked at him, neither did the man's bodyguards that were stationed around the table. Every one of them were staring towards the stage with an intensity that made Dick nervous.

 _This is no ordinary love  
No ordinary love  
This is no ordinary love  
No ordinary love_

 _When you came my way  
You brightened every day  
With your sweet smile_

Jason was frowning as he made his way back to the table. He threw himself into his chair, but continued glancing back over his shoulder. Dick glanced behind him.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"It's like they didn't even know I was there," Jason said. "It's kind of freaky. Is this what she did to you when you first saw her perform?"

"Did she do what?" But, Dick knew exactly what his brother was talking about.

"This thing. Did she ever do that to you? You know, before that bond shit happened?"

Dick shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. I remember not noticing my surroundings at all when she sang the first few times." The truth was his date had left him at the table that first night and Dick never noticed her leaving. The waiter had had to tell him that she had taken a cab home. He had chosen to come alone to listen to Elle sing after that experience.

"Do you ever wonder if maybe she didn't purposely put you under some kind of spell or something?" Jason whispered.

"It had crossed my mind. Once," Dick reluctantly admitted. He had changed his mind about her intentions later, but it was times like these when he found himself wondering again. He shook his head. "It doesn't matter now, though. I love her, Jason. I wouldn't change a thing."

They glanced around the bar at the other people. The men, even the women, were staring at her in silent wonder.

"I gotta tell you, this kind of creeps me out," Jason muttered again as the song slowly came to an end.

 _This is no ordinary love  
No ordinary love  
This is no ordinary love  
No ordinary love_

 _Keep trying for you  
Keep crying for you  
Keep flying for you  
Flying, falling_

 _Falling_

Silence followed for a long moment. Dick broke the spell when he started clapping, Jason quickly following suit. The people around them were blinking as if coming out of a trance for a second, but soon the entire place was on its feet applauding. Whistles and yells punctuated the applause. It felt almost like it had that night when Dick had first watched Elle perform at the club all those months ago.

When she met his gaze, Dick gave her a thumbs-up to let her know that her part of the mission had been accomplished. Instead of heading down, however, she smiled and waved at the D.J., and another song began. The heavy trance-like feel was quickly obliterated as she started to sing again.

 _Love . . .  
It's a special day  
We should celebrate and appreciate  
That you and me found something pretty neat  
And I know some say this day is arbitrary_

This time, a sort of lightness of being fell over the crowd as Elle picked up the mike. Leaving the stage, she walked over to their table, singing this song to the man who held her heart.

 _But it's a good excuse  
That I love to use, baby, I know what to do, baby, I,  
I will love you, I'll love you, I'll love you_

 _Love . . .  
I don't need those things  
I don't need no ring  
I don't need anything  
But you with me 'cause in your company  
I feel happy oh so happy and complete_

Elle sat on Dick's lap, straddling his legs as she sang the song to him face to face.

 _And it's a good excuse  
That I love to use, baby, I know what to do, baby, I,  
I will love you, I'll love you, I'll love you  
Yeah, it's a good excuse  
That I love to use, baby, I know what to do, baby, I,  
I will love you, I'll love you, I'll love you_

 _So, won't you be my honey bee, giving me sweet kisses all the time  
Be mine, be my  
Valentine_

 _So, won't you be my honey bee, giving me sweet kisses all the time  
Be mine, be my  
Valentine_

 _Oh,  
Be my Valentine_

Her voice fading, Elle crossed those last few inches, and pressed her lips to his.

"Seriously," Jason's exasperated voice broke through above the applause and wolf whistles. "You guys need to get a room. It's getting so I can't take the two of you out in public anymore," he muttered sarcastically.

Laughing, Elle broke away as she waved a hand at the crowd, acknowledging their cheers. She turned off the mike for privacy. "So, did it work?" she asked, rolling her eyes dramatically toward the back of the room, indicating Shay and company. "Were you able to do it?"

Jay snorted. "Yeah. Just walked right up and slapped it in place. No one even blinked in my direction. I have to say, that whole thing you did with your voice was weird as hell."

"'That whole thing'?" she asked.

"You know what I'm talking about. That 'thing' you did with the audience, to hypnotize them . . ." he reminded her.

"It's not hypnotism," she told him. At least, she didn't think it was.

"Right," he laughed.

"It's not," she insisted, standing up. "And, you're welcome, by the way."

Elle returned the mike to the stage, her gaze inadvertently traveled back to the booth where Willie Shay sat with his Turkish counterpart. The booths on either side were taken up by their men as was two free-standing tables nearby. Two men stood beside the booth itself, obviously standing guard, one of them was huge, towering over everyone else.

It was clear now why Jason had needed her help. She had purposely chosen the song she had sung for its haunting melody. It made it easy to capture and hold the audience's attention. A trick she had first discovered after she began singing at Chez Donavon's. Not every song was equal, however. It would only work with certain melodies.

The men at the booth stop talking to stare at her. Careful to keep her expression neutral, Elle headed back to the safety of her table. Dick and Jason stood politely as she sat down next to them. The waitress had brought their food out during their song, Elle noted, leaning over to snag one of Dick's fries.

"So, now what?" she asked, making a face. The fries were cold. Neither man seemed to be interested in their food. Elle eyed Jason's plate. "Are you going to eat that pickle?"

"Now, we wait and listen in," Jay told her as he put in the earbud that would allow him to eavesdrop better. He adjusted the volume.

"Does that mean we can go now, or do you still need us to hang out?" Dick asked as he handed Elle her water.

Stealing Jason's pickle from his plate while he was distracted, Elle frowned at him. "Already? I don't want to go yet. I'm having fun."

"Hey! I was going to eat that," Jay said. He slapped at Elle's hand, but she waved the pickle at him triumphantly and took a bite. Scowling, he put a finger up to his ear as he attempted to hear the conversation occurring behind him. "Look, I'm recording the conversation, but they haven't said anything incriminating yet, and I'm not leaving here until I get what I came for."

The DJ's voice interrupted them. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for our next singer, Jason Todd!" Adam announced over the speakers.

Hearing his name, Jason glanced up in confusion. "What? What did he say?"

Elle leaned in, plucking the earpiece from him and handing it off to Dick. "You're on, Jay. Don't worry. Dick can record this while you sing for us."

"What the hell, Elle," Jay hissed, looking around at the curious crowd. "I'm not singing!"

"Don't be ridiculous! You have a terrific voice," Elle assured him. "Since when did you become shy?"

"Never, but I'm here on business," he reminded her in a hiss.

"Dick's taking care of your business," Elle reminded him. She stood up and grabbed his hand, tugging. "I never expected you to be such a diva, Jason."

He frowned at her. "I ain't no fucking diva," he growled at her even as he allowed Elle to pull him to his feet. He jammed a finger in Dick's direction. "Why the hell doesn't _he_ have to go up?"

"Because someone has to stay here and listen in to Shay's conversation," she whispered to him, reasonably, giving him a shove towards the stage. "It will be okay," she added with a smirk. "I'll take good care of your sandwich for you."

"Leave my sandwich alone," Jason hissed over his shoulder, but Elle just waved him on encouragingly.

* * *

 _At least, Dickhead will get the info we need_ , Jay thought, noting the intent look on his brother's face as he listened through the earbud. And then, next thing he knew, Jason was stumbling up the steps, his heavy boots stomping over the small stage. He looked at the mike in perplexity. It was too low for his six-foot frame. He'd have to bend over to sing into it. Jay glanced at the DJ. He could disassemble and reassemble his motorcycle in the course of an afternoon, but he had no idea how to adjust a mike stand.

Adam grinned, and walked over to help the newbie adjust the mike stand. He slapped Jason on the shoulder. "It's okay. It happens all the time. You'll be fine," Adam said. He pointed at the monitor in front of him. "The words are right there."

Jay blinked at the words on the screen, frowning. He caught Adam's arm before he disappeared behind his equipment again. "Who chose this song for me?" he asked curiously.

Adam snorted. "You did, mate."

"But I didn't . . ." Jason's voice trailed off. He glanced at Elle. _How'd she know_? _Nobody knew him that well. Not Dick, not even Bruce_. The longer he was around Elle, the creepier Dick's fiancée seemed to become.

"So, is everyone here having a good time?" he asked into the mike nervously. He winced slightly at the high-pitched squeal the sound system made at the sound of his voice.

He was met with some hoots and laughter. Someone wolf whistled off to his right. Squinting against the lights, he tried to locate the table it had emerged from. He was startled when his eyes found the singer from earlier – _Leah_. She lifted her drink in his direction and grinned. His face lit up with interest even as the music started.

People in the audience glanced at each other, realizing there had been change in venue. Nobody had been expecting this. Well, except for his erstwhile sister to be. Jason grabbed the mike and leaned in close, speaking the introduction to the song . . .

" _Turn it up son.  
Alright boys, this is her favorite song, you know that, right?  
So, if we play it good and loud she might get up and dance again.  
Aw, she's pretty good now.  
Here she comes, here she comes.  
Left, left, left-right-left . . ._"

Leah smirked as she kicked her chair back and began dancing. Jason's eyebrow lifted. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. The other women at her table squealed with laughter as they rushed to join her in the cramped space between the tables. The people around them hurried to make room for an impromptu dance floor, sliding furniture out of the way.

As Jason finally began singing, he met her eyes and almost laughed. Most people were startled when they first heard him sing. Nobody realized how deep a bass his voice was.

 _Hustlers shootin' eight ball,  
Throwin' darts at the walls,  
Feeling damn near ten feet tall.  
Here she comes, Lord help us all.  
Old TW's girlfriend done slapped him out his chair.  
Poor old boy it ain't his fault it's so hard not to stare at that . . ._

 _Honky-tonk-badonkadonk!  
Keepin' perfect rhythm makes you want to swing along.  
Got it goin' on like Donkey Kong.  
And, ooh-wee, well, shut my mouth, slap your grandma!  
There ought to be a law, get the sheriff on the phone.  
Lord have mercy, how'd she even get them britches on  
With that honky-tonk-badonkadonk _

Jason grinned at the daring, beautiful woman as she danced her way onto the stage. Jay grabbed the mike and moved the stand out of the way, letting himself get into his performance. He slid a hand around Leah's waist, matching her rhythm as he sang, never missing a beat.

 _Aww, son . . ._

 _Now, honey, you can't blame her for what her mama gave her.  
It ain't right to hate her for working that moneymaker.  
Band shuts down at two, but we're hanging out 'til three.  
We hate to see her go, but love to watch her leave with that . . ._

 _Honky-tonk-badonkadonk!  
Keepin' perfect rhythm makes you want to swing along.  
Got it goin' on like Donkey Kong.  
And, oohwee, well, shut my mouth, slap your grandma!  
There ought to be a law, get the sheriff on the phone.  
Lord have mercy, how'd she even get them britches on  
With that honky-tonk-badonkadonk_

 _Aww, son . . .  
Oh, that's what I'm talkin' 'bout, right there._

* * *

He shook his head at this unexpected turn of events. Dick would have never have pegged his little brother as a country music lover. Jason apparently had facets to him he had managed to keep hidden from everyone else in the family. Dick wondered if even Bruce knew this side of his irascible, middle son.

Elle tugged on Dick's sleeve, pointing at the group that had begun dancing in the center of the room. The conversation he was listening to was beginning to turn to business; distracted, Dick waved for her to go. She could enjoy herself while he took care of recording the meeting.

He pressed his hand to the earbud, returning his attention to the conversation happening at the table near the back of the room. The Turk had a heavy accent and Dick was only getting every fourth word he said. They could clean up the recording later and dissect the conversation to figure out what all that he might be missing, but this wasn't a total waste of his time because Dick had no problem understanding everything Willie Shay was saying.

In fact, Dick was becoming more intrigued now that he discovered there was a _third_ party involved in this trafficking operation who Willie was representing at this meeting, someone that Shay hinted had a connection to the kind of quality 'product' the Turk was interested in procuring. It didn't take Dick long to realize that these men weren't talking about the kind of women and children normally found within the filthy streets of the Bowery. These were the forgotten people that no one would likely notice or care about should they go missing.

He ducked his head a bit, turning more towards the stage to hide his frown from Shay and the Turk's men. Those forgotten ones, the prostitutes and homeless children, weren't without their champion, however. Jason cared if something happened to them. Hell, Dick cared, and Elle did, too. It was why they were here. But, these poor people weren't the ones these traffickers were after this time.

Who was this third party? Shay wasn't mentioning any names, but he _did_ mention an area . . . a very familiar area, in fact: The Palisades. Wayne Manor was at the edge of the Palisades district in Bristol County. These people were talking about trafficking victims taken right out of Batman's own neighborhood! Not that these guys realized that. Dick suddenly realized that he and Jason might even know some of the women being targeted from parties they had been required to attend while living with Bruce. This mystery partner had to be someone familiar with high society.

Although, Gotham's upper crust had never been especially welcoming to Dick, and probably even less so to Jason, no one deserved what these men intended for them.

Catching some unusual movement out of the corner of his eye, Dick turned his head, noticing that one of the Turk's men was manhandling his woman. Anger swept over him. Yanking the earbud out of his ear, Dick leapt to his feet. This was why he had insisted upon coming with Jason and Elle. He was coming to realize that his fiancée was a bit of a trouble magnet. He didn't blame her for this. He knew that her voice drew everyone to her but those with tin ears.

* * *

Elle bounced in her chair with excitement as Jason got into his performance. She had chosen a song for him that she knew he would like. Dick looked surprised for a second before his attention returned back to whatever conversation he was listening to through the earbud. The woman who had sang earlier jumped up to dance to his song, and Elle knew that sending her a drink from Jason had been the right thing to do. From the look the woman was giving him, she shared his fascination.

Getting Dick's attention, she pointed to the fun happening in the middle of the club. He nodded and waved absentmindedly, so Elle leapt up to join in, laughing when the woman passed her by on the way to the stage.

"You go, girl," Elle murmured softly, wishing her luck. Being in a romantic mood, she hoped that something would come of it. With luck, the reason they were here would disappear and they could enjoy the rest of the evening. She really wanted to get Dick up there for a duet before they had to leave.

Finding out that Jason could sing had been a happy surprise. Jay's deep bass voice blended wonderfully with Dick's baritone and Tim's tenor. It was a shame that Damian didn't share the same talent. Still, the youngest Wayne was musically gifted in other ways. He had picked up the drums with amazing speed and skill, and Damian had proven to be an excellent rapper and beatboxer, just as she knew he would.

Her new family was turning out to be better than she could have ever hoped for . . . as long as they continued to be willing to work with her and, so far, they had been. Tim, the little liar, had pretended ignorance when it came to playing an instrument, but he was actually quite impressive on the piano. It took some doing, but he had finally admitted to having taken ten years' worth of piano lessons before his father had passed and Bruce adopted him. Jason was decent at the guitar, although Dick turned out to be surprisingly good.

She would have never guessed that had been in a band with a couple of his Teen Titan friends when he had been a teenager. Yet another secret that Dick had been hiding. She wondered what other things she might learn about him as time went on.

Elle's gifts encompassed everything to do with sound. Not only was she an expert at every instrument she tried, but she picked up new languages with ease. Her mother and grandmother were as well. She assumed it had something to do with their Siren DNA, but the women in her family had perfect pitch, an astounding vocal range as well as voices that could mesmerize their audience. Who knew that DNA worked in that fashion, but Elle considered herself blessed for it.

 _We don't care about the drinkin', barely listen to band.  
Our hands, they start to shakin' when she gets the urge to dance.  
Drivin' everybody crazy. You think you fell in love.  
Boys, you better keep your distance; you can look but you can't touch._

As Jason's song continued, Elle put her hands up in the air as she mixed it up with the other dancers. When she caught sight of Danial pushing his way through the crowd, she spun around only to bounce off the torso of a giant of a man who had been behind her. He towered over her and was as broad as he was tall. When he grabbed her arm, Elle had assumed it had been to save her from a fall, but when she tugged her arm, Goliath wasn't letting go.

"Excuse me," she said, "but what do you think you're doing? Let go of me."

"Patron Kirac wishes to meet you. You come," Goliath told her with a heavy accent.

Only when he tightened his grip and began pulling her with him did Elle recognize him as one of the Turkish bodyguards. Certainly, he wouldn't make a scene in the middle of a crowd, she decided.

"I don't think so," Elle frowned as she began struggling with him. The last thing she wanted was to get up close and personal with a man suspected of human trafficking. "I'm here with someone else, so take a hike, buddy."

"You no understand who you speak to," Goliath growled.

"You heard the lady," Dick interrupted, jerking the walking mountain around to face him. "She's with me."

Goliath laughed. "You? I think not," he sneered, shoving Dick away with one massive hand. He glanced back at Elle, dismissing the smaller man entirely. "Now, you _come_. Patron is waiting."

But, Dick wasn't finished by a long shot. He was suddenly between them, his hand on Goliath's wrist.

"You can either turn around and go back to your table, or you and I can dance," Dick told the guy.

"I no dance," Goliath answered, and swung a big, beefy fist at Dick's head. Ducking beneath it easily, Dick allowed the right cross to pass harmlessly over his head.

"Alright, then. Dancing, it is." Dick replied.

Twisting the man's wrist, Dick pressed his finger and thumb into the pressure points there, making Goliath to release Elle. Dick shoved her aside with his shoulder, inserting himself between the giant and his fiancée.

"Go," he ordered her. "Get out of here!"

As Elle backed up, she bumped into someone else. When she looked, she saw the dancers were forming a circle around the altercation. Several already had their phones out and recording the two men as they sized one another up. _Gah_! _Why did people enjoy watching these things_? She tried pushing through the crowd but realized that she wasn't going anywhere soon.

She gasped as Goliath threw punch after punch but succeeded in landing nothing. Dick ducked and weaved, expertly avoiding the massive fists as he drew the big man after him and away from Elle and the crowd. Abruptly, Goliath lunged forward, attempting to catch the nimble man but, again, Dick wasn't there, twisting gracefully to the side.

Elle glanced around the bar for help. Where were the bouncers? Why weren't they helping? The music continued playing, although Jason had stopped singing at some point. He stood there, grinning, watching the action, but it didn't look as if he had any intention of stepping in to help his brother out.

Grinding her teeth in frustration, Elle determined she would kill Jason later, after they got out of this.

In frustration, Goliath slammed a fist into a table. The heavy wooden structure didn't even put up a token fight, collapsing under the onslaught in an array of flying splinters and cold French fries. Finally, one of the bouncers moved in carrying a stun gun in one of his hands.

Dick tried to wave the bouncer away but the man, determined to earn his paycheck, dove forward, his stun gun extended . . . only to have Goliath punch him in the head. The bouncer, not a small man, collapsed much the way the table had just seconds ago. His stun gun flew out of his hand, slid away. It stopped halfway between the fight and where Elle was standing. She didn't even pause to think about it.

"You next, little man," Goliath promised.

Dick's smile fell along with the bouncer. People were going to get hurt if he didn't do something.

"Bring it on," he taunted. He needed to keep the man angry and off-balance. It worked a little too well.

Goliath roared, rushing him. Dick managed to dance out of range again but was grabbed from behind as another of the Turk's men entered the fracas. Goliath's punch landed hard against Dick's cheek. He would have been out for the count had he not rolled with it. As it was, his vision was a conglomeration of flashing stars and black spots.

He might not be able to see, but he could compensate. Dick had spent years learning how to fight blind. Bruce had insisted he learn, both in unfamiliar darkened rooms, and while blindfolded, and even with ointment placed in his eyes to mimic the blur he might experience should he become drugged.

A shift in the air warned him when the next punch was coming. Moving fast, Dick shifted his weight at the last second. It was enough to move him out of the way, placing the startled bodyguard that held him directly in the path of the blow. Good thing, too, since another hit from the big guy, even a glancing blow, would have ended the fight for him.

Once the arms holding him fell away, Dick spun out of range. As his vision cleared, he realized four more men were heading in his direction. Goliath, taking advantage of Dick's distraction, started to lunge for him once more when the giant suddenly seized up as if he had grabbed onto a powerline. The big guy fell like a downed tree and, standing behind him, Dick found his furious fiancée. The bouncer's stun gun was in her hand, still snapping and sparking with a million volts of angry electricity.

"No one messes with my fiancé, you jerk!" Elle snarled, rearing back and kicking the quivering behemoth for good measure. She looked up at him then and grinned.

Unfortunately, the other men had arrived.

"I thought I told you to go," Dick yelled in her direction, but he had no chance to see if she obeyed him this time. He dove past her into two of the oncoming men.

The fight was on.

* * *

 **REACTIONS? I've missed hearing from you . . . Please, leave a review and let me know what you think of the chapter.**

 **The karaoke bar is going to take at least 3 chapters to complete. If it makes you feel any better, I do have most of the next chapter written. It could still be a while, however, before I can get it out to you. I'll remind you that, despite all the real world things that are taking priority right now, I have no intention of not finishing this story. There are LOTS more to take place before we're done. Make sure you either fave or follow this if you wish to be notified when the next chapter, Karaoke Bar - Pt 3, is posted.**

* * *

 **"No Ordinary Love" as performed by Sade from her 1997 album, Paradise. It was written by Sade Adu and Stuart Matthewman and produced by Mikel Pela and Sade.**

 **"Valentine" as performed by singer and writer, Kina Grannis. It is from her 2010 album, Stairwells, I believe under the label of One Haven.**

 **"Honky Tonk Bedonkadonk" as performed by Trace Adkins from his 2005 album, Songs About Me. It was written by Dallas Davidson, Randy Houser, and Jamey Johnson, and produced by Dann Huff for Capitol Nashville Record label.**

 **I don't claim to own any of these songs, so don't sue me. Free advertising here, guys! ;D**


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